


4th Point of Contact

by WaterMonkey



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyguard, Bullying, Byun Baekhyun is in Love, Do Kyungsoo | D.O is perpetually annoyed, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gun Violence, Harper Hasagawa is a little shit, Harper is a stereotypical white person who stumbles around Asia not knowing how to act, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, International Cast, Language Barrier, Life threatening situations, Military, Poor Suho, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Security, Sometime just after Kokobop? idk, Strangers to Lovers, Unrequited Crush, Written like a kdrama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMonkey/pseuds/WaterMonkey
Summary: Born and bred in the American Military, Harper Hasagawa feels lost once she gives up her rank. Through a series of random events and some mutual friends, she becomes head of security for EXO. Many challenges await her, including the ones she left behind on the battlefield that decide they're not done with her yet.





	1. With A Chopstick!

 

_The world was a drenched greyscale, tilted on its axis, hanging skewed on the scale of forever. The balance was off. I felt it, the rocks felt it, the sea felt it. We were lost in the shift, forgotten between the strands of this new fabric of universe we’d found ourselves in. I didn’t fit in here, the island under my boots didn’t piece together here, the ocean roiling before me would never be calm here. It was a tempest, crashing against the cliff, crashing against my heart, and the pieces left of it. We competed to see who was loudest in this new truth and I think I won. The whirlwind ripped out of me with enough force to shatter the canted rocks, to silence the ravaging sea. I was more than them, but I was less than nothing. There was no way to tell if the rain hitting my face was from the sea, from the sky, or from me. But it pounded into my skin, each drop a punch. Let them come! I wanted it, I wanted them to wash off this illusion, strip away this lie because it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be._

_“Hello?” The voice said, and the ocean fractured---_

I woke with a jolt.

“Harper? Harper!” My mother was screaming as Fall Out Boy was blaring through the speakers of my phone.

Strange, I thought as I rolled out of bed. It had been at least six weeks since I’d dreamt of that night. Memories were funny things, but dreams were worse. I’d done well for the past few months, avoiding any unnecessary triggers, but who knows? Maybe it was because _‘Thnks fr th Mmrs’_ was playing on a loop and I still hadn’t answered the phone.

“Harper! Will you turn that down already!” She yelled again, from downstairs.

“Okay, okay!” I hollered back, grabbing the iPhone from the dresser and swiping the green button without even looking to see who it was. “Hasagawa,” I answered with a yawn. Enough time had passed that I no longer screened my calls, not that anyone but my mother called me anyway, but my heart always beat a little bit faster in those first few moments. Because, what if…

“Sergeant?”

I pulled the phone away from my face, gaping at the massive mistake I’d just made. The caller ID listed a +81 country code, prefecture 98--Naha. “Sergeant? Are you there?”

“K-Kojima?” I muttered. The ghosts seemed to be out in full force today. I dropped to the edge of my bed. I didn’t even have a bra on, I hadn’t even brushed my teeth! It was too early for this!

“ _Yokatta_! You finally answered! I’ve been calling all day.” A morning of muffled Patrick Stump seemed a likely enough explanation for my mother’s mood, the sound byte of my ringtone only playing the best part of the song, but still, it was like 2:00 am in Okinawa--I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and blanched in horrid realization: 13:15 blinked at me in big block numbers, and I practically threw my phone.

“Ohmygod! I’m late for work!” I screamed and flew around the room, grabbing pants, forgoing the bra, screwing the toothbrush.

“What? Sergeant? Hello?” Kojima’s tiny voice squeaked from the speaker in my hand, but I ignored it. One boot after the other, I tumbled down the stairs. I heard mom in the kitchen and figured I was late enough to yell at her and not cause any more damage than I already had.

“Why didn’t you wake me up!” I howled as I stormed through. She was unphased, chopping vegetables at the kitchen island like I howled all the time. I registered the knife, if only because I was trained to do so, but assumed she’d let me get fired first before she used it.

“What would I wake you up for?” She asked nonchalantly, decapitating a carrot that I envisioned my face on.

“Uhh, my job?” I hissed as I snatched a smoothie from the fridge and b-lined for the garage door.

“Oh, they called this morning.”

My heels clicked together in a halt. My back was turned to her but I could tell she’d been waiting all day to have this conversation, just by the way she was massacring those vegetables. Without giving away my temper, I cracked my neck and backtracked to the other side of the kitchen island. We stood face to face and I tried my very best not to follow through with my reflex to disarm her first.

“You answered my phone?” I said through my teeth. She just shrugged unapologetically. If it wasn’t bad enough that my mother was invading my privacy, she had absolutely no issues doing it. “ _What did they say_?”  

“They said don’t bother.” She wrinkled her nose as she said it, like it was only a matter of time like it wasn’t my third job this month. I let my head fall at her casual attitude. “Besides,” she went on, scooping up her murder victims and throwing them in a stew pot, “you _have_ a job.”

“ _Moooooom_ .” I drowned in the syllable of her name. Surely people would understand if I just threw her in the pot, right? She was nosey and pushy, and constantly--

“Shouldn’t you be taking that call?” She used her butcher knife to point at the still ticking call on the face of my cell phone, ignoring my wail.

“Shit,” I muttered as I brought the phone back to front and center. Kojima wasn’t speaking but the timer was clearly still going, he hadn’t hung up.

“ _Language_.” Mom snipped at me, as I backed up from the counter.

“I mean _shoot_.” I corrected snobbishly, but then stopped. “Wait, how did you know he was…?”

“ _I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad and this crystal ball, it's always cloudy except for when you look into the past_ …” She started to sing and all I could do was shake my head.

When I was back in the safety of my room, I took a deep breath and put the phone back to my ear.

“Kojima?”

“Your mother has a lovely singing voice.” He chimed and I made a face at the wall.

“That is not something I want to hear from you, Private. Now, what do you want?” My Sergeant's voice came out without my meaning to, and I flinched at the sound of it.

“Well, I have a situation.” He continued easily, because well...he was used to it.

“I’m not in-country, haven’t been in--” I quickly started to deny whatever he was about to ask of me, but he cut me off.

“I’m not dumb, Sergeant.” He snorted. “I talked to your mom, I know you’re in California.”

“Then you should already know that I can’t help you.” I fired back, wondering why I bothered to answer this call in the first place.

“My situation is in L.A., and I don’t have anyone else to ask. Otherwise, I would have called them.” I let that sink in for a moment, the bittersweet taste of clapback.

“Rude.” Was all I could bring myself to murmur, but he heard me.

“No, you just made your stance very clear is all.”

“What situation could you possibly have in L.A.?” I steered the conversation away from my ‘stance’ and back to whatever it was he wanted. “I thought you didn’t know anyone in the U.S..”

“It concerns our mutual friend.” The words sounded careful, even over the phone and they made me frown at myself in the mirror.

“Mutual?” To my knowledge, Kojima didn’t have any friends in the U.S. He was always much more concerned with his split heritage than anything us Caucasians had to offer.

“If you have the time…” He trailed off, and I figured he wasn’t going to tell me any more until I made some small amount of commitment. Glancing at the clock with a sigh, I plopped down on the bed and kicked my boots off.

“I guess I do now.”

Two hours later, I found that my 5.11s still fit, which was a relief. My fingers laced up my combat boots as if it hadn’t been six months since I had even looked at them. All in all, I spent most of the time after the call on my hair because, well...that’s a thing. I pulled it up, let it down, pulled it up, and let it down again. No matter what I did, it always morphed into a standard-issue bun by magic, like the strands knew no other shape. With a frustrated sigh, I raked my fingers through it, surrendering to the down look. It would be a matted mess and get constantly stuck to my chapstick, but at least it wouldn’t look uniform.

I proceeded downstairs quietly, hoping she wouldn’t stop me, but knowing that she would. She’d moved on to a different part of the meal she was preparing as I passed by, quiet and small. She saw me meander through and paused long enough for us to lock eyes. Then I watched as she took in my gear: the boots, the tactical pants, the pack, and the rods.

“Off to work then?” She asked, her voice a cheery imitation of what I knew to be going on under the surface. Her expression was grave, despite her pleasant question. It was the face she used to make before my deployments; the disconnect of what she was feeling and what she knew was best for me. She hated when I went to battle, it reminded her too much of my dad. She still believed, even when I didn’t, that I was a soldier through and through. But this wasn’t exactly a sanctioned mission.

“Will you bail me out?” I asked sarcastically, hoping to lighten the mood, but she responded with:

“Absolutely,” without hesitation. I cleared my throat, not knowing what else to say, but her eyes were insistent.

“Well, I’m grabbing a train,” I said clumsily and started for the door.

“To where?” She asked and I winced.

“...South.” I hated this part; the part where she wasn’t allowed to know anything; the part where we left her over and over again without telling her where we were going...Dad and me. When I looked back to see how bad the damage was, her face was surprisingly resolute. She looked how she always looked: proud, strong, like the destroyer of vegetables she was, and worried... “Don’t wait up,” I said softly before escaping out the door.

* * *

Regardless of every other wrongdoing, it was a small consolation that their company, SM, at least splurged for Korean TV in the dressing rooms. That Kyungsoo was thankful for. It gave him and the other members a small sense of comfort, knowing that the EXO-L’s at least knew what was going on. And, he supposed, everyone else did too. Every news channel he flipped past—MBCTV, SBS, KNN, KBS1—they all detailed their sudden and firey...predicament.

‘E _XO HELD HOSTAGE’ ‘EXO REFUSES TO PERFORM’ ‘EXO’S BAEKHYUN DEATH IN THE FAMILY’ ‘EXO - INDUSTRY BEFORE BLOOD?’ ‘EXO!’ ‘EXO!’ ‘EXO!’_

Anyone who was anyone was talking about them. It was probably the most headlines they’d made since EXO broke the Daesang record last year, and what were they doing about it?

_Moping._

Yixing, Minseok, and Jongdae were off in their own little EXO-M corner, while Chanyeol and Sehun were quietly lamenting over the fact that their cell phones had been taken away. Jongin and Suho were on the couch with Kyungsoo, in spirit at least. Because despite all their pretending for the other’s sake, every member was poised towards the bathroom door, straining their ears for some small indication that there was life inside. That’s where he was, Baekhyun. He’d holed up in there as soon as they got here and hadn’t come out. He needed the privacy, they understood that as brothers, but some of them had to pee. The chaos of yesterday was definitely preferable to the boredom they faced today. After being escorted from their hotel rooms this morning, they’d been on lockdown at the convention center, living off of expensive water and little bags of peanuts.

There was a knock at the door, which was as insulting as it was polite, seeing as they had no control over who came in or out. A management team of three from SM America came in with bright smiles and a tray full of lunch, like that was going to fix anything.

“Gentlemen!” The head manager announced brightly. “How are we feeling today?” He opened his arms wide as if to hug them all at the same time and Kyungsoo wondered what Suho’s policy on punching employees was. The first and only thing Kyungsoo could stare at was the man’s giant teeth: dazzling and neon. His dark skin made them even brighter in contrast and the twinkle nearly blinded everyone in the room. When no one else stepped up to answer, Kyungsoo felt more than heard a small sigh from Junmyeon.

“We are feeling the same as we were yesterday when you refused to let us leave.” His voice unexpectedly neutral.

“Oh, boys! I’m so sorry to hear that!” The man said and Kyungsoo got the impression that he was not sorry at all. “I promise we’ll get you home as soon as we can. You just have to...finish the tour first!” He let out a big fake laugh that no one else bothered to join. He acted like the commentator from ‘The Hunger Games’; an over the top, charismatic jackass...and Kyungsoo couldn’t even remember his name. Junmyeon must have seen the ire emanating, because he stepped around the couch, putting himself in his member's crosshairs.

“Please try to understand, there has been a death in our family. It is _disrespectful_ to keep us here.” His words were sharp but they bounced right off the manager’s teeth like they were shields.

“Oh, Myeonie, I know it hurts, but people die all the time!” He put both hands on Suho’s shoulders and Kyungsoo thought he was finally going to see his hyung in action by how his back went rigid. “And this is show business kid...it must go on.” With that, all the false bravado fell from his face as he turned to the other managers. “Keep them here until sound check and if they’re not on that stage by six o’clock, I’ll have more than just your job.” Then the three of them stalked out, but Kyungsoo caught a glimpse of one staying behind to stand outside their door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch someone that badly before,” Jongin mumbled from the couch. He was a literal teddy bear, his hands were filled with cotton and his heart full of love. He would never hurt anybody--except maybe that guy.

Suho stood firmly, working the muscles in his back. Kyungsoo could tell he was trying very hard to keep his cool for their sakes, but...they all knew their leader didn’t know what to do. It was evident in the way he slowly turned and sat back down on the couch, avoiding everyone's eye.

“Hyung…” Sehun murmured and the atmosphere shifted from bad to worse.

“Does anyone…” Junmyeon covered his face for a moment before finally giving in and looking at them, “does anyone have any ideas?”

“Yeah: we leave.” Jongdae threw his plan in the pot. “We’re acting like their prisoners, but they can’t keep us here against our will.”

“They can though,” Minseok disagreed, “they can and they are.”

“But what happens when we go home? Do they expect us not to say anything?” Sehun asked.

“What are we going to say?” Suho responded miserably. “That we broke our contracts, but it wasn’t our fault?”

“This isn’t fair, hyung!” Jongin started, ripping his teddy bear heart to shreds.

“We signed up knowing it wouldn’t be,” Suho replied, and Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t usually so dissenting.

“To expect the world to be fair is as foolish as thinking a bull won’t charge you because you don’t eat meat.” Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Yixing who was sitting quietly in the corner.

“I hate his quotes…” Chanyeol dropped his face into his hands off to the side, “they’re always so damn applicable.”

“And yet he called Baek a ‘penis’ once.” Minseok snorted, and just like that, some of the tension melted away.

After a respite, Suho seemed more level headed and like himself.

“So, you guys tell me, do we go on stage or do we end it here?”

“Those are our only options?” Sehun asked sadly. Out of them all, the maknae’s would be the most if it all went south. It was the hyungs that Kyungsoo worried about most.

“Even if we decided to perform,” Chanyeol said, “there’s no way we can get him on stage.” He jutted his chin towards the bathroom door that was more like the elephant in the room. “He’s devastated. We all are. Mama Byun was…” Yeol’s eyes started to water and he choked up.

“She was the nicest woman in the whole world.” Jongdae piped up, going over and putting a comforting hand on the Chanyeol’s shoulder. It would have been funny if it weren’t so bittersweet, simply because Yeol was so much taller than the rest of them. The reason for all their troubles at the moment, was because Baekhyun’s mother had suddenly passed away. His parents didn’t tell him that she’d been sick, thinking it was nothing and not wanting to distract him from his world tour until it was too late.

“Which is funny considering Baekhyun is her carbon copy.” Minseok joked, and small sad smiles bloomed around the room.

“Do you remember when it was Baek’s turn to host _Chuseok_ , and mother forgot to buy black beans for the _Songpyeon_ , so she used coffee beans instead?” Jongin asked and a collective moan rose from the room. Kyungsoo could have cried all over again remembering the tragically bitter meal. Mama Byun had been so proud though! Proud because everyone knew she couldn’t cook, but she’d given the maid the day off because it was _Chuseok_ , and she did her absolute best with what she had. By the end of the night, there wasn’t a crumb left, because EXO loved her and there was no way they were going to spit out her food. Kyungsoo even recalled Sehun crying as he ate, bite after bite.

“What about that time right before we debuted that she broke into the dorm and demanded to meet all of us?” Minseok said, and then all together they announced,

“ _With a chopstick_!”

“And when we all had to stay at Baek’s house for a week because of his eye, and she let us eat all the foods were not allowed to have.” Jongdae beamed, which made Sehun groan.

“God, I miss ramen.”

The memories kept coming and the anxiety of their lockdown eased. This was the best version of his group, Kyungsoo thought. When all his members were laughing and no deadlines mattered, because they were together. They were telling stories about the people they loved and they had each other’s backs. He missed this, missed the ease of it.

It wasn’t until there was a bump on the dressing room door and the spell was broken, that they remembered they were stuck there, trapped by their own agency and destined to fail. It was all going to end tonight, one way or the other and Kyungsoo soured, glancing at the bathroom again.

Still no sound.

There was another bump from the dressing room door and then another. He was starting to get annoyed. What could that manager possibly be doing? It was bad enough that he was standing guard, but did he have to be such a--

The door exploded.


	2. Doughnuts To Take Out

She announced herself in a firestorm of splinters and plaster like she was crossing the gate of hell themselves. Kai screamed, and everyone else jumped up to make way for this Athena as she stalked in. Suho was on his feet in an instant, but Kyungsoo froze the second he turned around.  
She wore dark jeans tucked into combat boots, with a black shirt and pack. Her auburn hair was twisted up into a braid that looked more like a crown, and her gaze--the one he remembered being soaked in sea water and crashing waves--was zeroed in on him.  
“It’s you…” Tumbled from his mouth as she took two long strides forward. He held his breath as she reached for him, not sure she wouldn’t disappear if he moved. She seemed bigger than he remembered; taller, stronger, livelier. Not to mention she just kicked through the door like she was kicking off a blanket. But when her fingers gripped his shirt front, he knew she was real...which somehow made it even worse.  
“Come on.” She said quietly. Even as soft as it was, it was absolutely a command. Kyungsoo registered the English, but it took him the two long strides back to the door to find the words.  
“W-Wait…” He grabbed her fist in his shirt and planted his feet. She jerked back with a grunt at his sudden stop, but then just pulled again, harder.  
“Do you want to leave or not?” She snapped.  
“보안!” Suho called for security, thinking she was some mercenary sasaeng fan. She huffed when she realized what he was saying, tacking on an extravagant eye roll before pointing to the mass between her feet.  
“He’s taking a nap.” As she tried to pull Kyungsoo through the door she’d demolished, he saw the body of the manager who stayed behind sprawled in the hallway. Panic bubbled up in his throat as she tugged on him again, but he grabbed the door frame with both hands.  
“No!”  
What they’d been doing the whole time, Kyungsoo had no idea, but the members quickly came to his rescue and threw themselves in. He was never going to forgive them for how long it took, but better late than never. Chanyeol roped his long arms around the girl, while Minseok grabbed her wrist and broke her hold on Kyungsoo. Kai pulled him back into the room, but even with their tag-teaming, Yeol was no Mr. Fantastic. All it took was one strong fist to the groin to drop him on top of the manager, and she was free.  
She took a deep breath, angrily spit a stray piece of hair out of her mouth, and then stepped over the bodies of her victims. Everyone backed up with each step she took forward, making for the most unromantic dance in the history of kidnappings. When she’d made it halfway into the room but no closer to them, she let out something akin to a howl and stomped her foot. She seriously stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum.  
“Kyungsoo!” She growled, and everyone shrank. “I am breaking a lot of laws right now, so if you want out of here, you have to come with me...right now!” She threw down the gauntlet, and he was mildly surprised it wasn’t an actual one. She seemed the type to have random weapons lying around...just in case. That was it: she seemed like a _‘just in case’_   type of girl. Just in case she had to storm a compound, just in case she had to rescue somebody, just in case she had to rescue nine somebodies.  
“I’m not leaving without them.” Kyungsoo found his voice but was still holding Kai’s hand behind his back, because she was...scary. Her eyebrows shot up at what he said and let out a bitter laugh.  
“There’s no way I can get you all out! No, my orders are you and only you--” She was shaking her head, acting as if his statement had been some sort of joke, but Suho interrupted, making her tear her attention away from Kyungsoo to his leader.  
“If you’re going to take anyone, please take Baekhyun,” Suho begged. The thought hadn’t even occurred to Kyungsoo, but maybe that’s why Junmyeon was the leader and not him.  
“Bacon?” She asked skeptically.  
“Baekhyun.” Suho corrected, and stepped towards the bathroom door, leading her gaze. “His mother is the reason we’re...here.” He shrugged apologetically, not wanting to blame Mama Byun for the demise of EXO, but not having any other explanation. The girl glanced between Suho and the door he pointed to with a question on her face.  
“I suppose he’s in there?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you’re not going to try and trap me in there when I turn around?” She half-joked, half threatened. Suho shook his head and stepped back, giving her a wide berth. She stalked over and before anyone could open it for her, kicked the door in. It was dark inside, and across from the opening, the shell of Baekhyun sat against the wall. “Jesus.” She muttered and even though Kyungsoo couldn't see her face, it was the way she said it that made the difference. It was softer and filled with just a little more melancholy than he would have expected from her. “He’s in no condition for exfil.”  
“For what?” Suho asked, but she ignored him. She stepped quietly into the bathroom and squatted down before Baek. If he saw her, or anything for that matter, he gave no indication. From outside, Kyungsoo heard her murmur something to him, but she said it so quietly he couldn’t hear. He wasn’t about to tell her that Baekhyun couldn’t speak English. In fact, it was only he and Suho that could. The other members had a basic working knowledge of the language, but the type of conversation she was wanting to have was not going to happen with broken charades.  
After a moment, she came back out with a different sort of feel to her. She took a good look at each of them before settling back with Kyungsoo.  
“Can you carry him?” She asked, dead serious.  
“I don’t know...” he stuttered. Suho quickly translated the question for the other members, and to his surprise, Sehun instantly stepped up and nodded.  
“Can you carry him and run for your life?” She demanded, but Sehun didn’t back down.   
“Yes.” He said, and she went with it. It didn't matter that he was almost two heads taller than her, she was running the show.   
“Change of plans than. You, pick up Bacon.” She pointed to Sehun who was already on his way to the bathroom. “You, find the passports.” She pointed to Suho. “You, grab the guard, put him in the closet.” She told Minseok. “You, pick up the broken one if he’s with us.” She told Jongdae and gestured to Chanyeol who was slowly picking himself up anyway.  
And then she braced herself against the wall, saying “I’ll get us the fuck out.”

* * *

**12 Hours Later**

The handcuffs clinked together when I tugged at the joint welded to the table. Never in my life, I grumbled. Never in my life had I imagined I’d be in an interrogation room for something so outlandish!   
The room was stereotypically sparse; just the silver chrome table and chairs, and the giant window in front of me that I was pretty sure hid at least four LAPD detectives. I suppose that’s what you get when you storm the airport. When it felt like I was good and marinated, one of those brooding detectives came in to see if I was ready to roast.  
“What time is it?” I asked first as he sat down across from me. He was a heavier set black man who looked like he was thoroughly done with everything. He glanced briefly at his watch before his eyes slid back to me boredly.  
“Just past six.”  
I made a face, mentally counting down the hours it would have taken the boys to land. “Why? You got somewhere to be? Some other,” he dropped a manila folder on the table with a grunt, flipping it open to reveal the mug shot they’d taken of me and the ‘ _accident_ ’ report, “suits to throw down with?”  
“That was a simple misunderstanding.” I brushed off, clinking the cuffs again.  
“Oh, that’s all it was?” He gasped sarcastically. “Well, we should just let you go then!”  
We stared at each other for a minute, he obviously wanting to skip the bullshit, and me not wanting to go to jail...so we both just sighed.

  
“Now,” he lulled and flipped the report to the next page, “walk me through it.”  
“Which part?”  
He gave me a hard look, but I was being sincere. Was I supposed to start at the beginning? How much did he already know?  
“The part where you kidnapped nine Korean nationals--” He started to list.  
“Is it kidnapping if they ask for it?” I muttered.  
“--commandeered a City of Los Angeles bus--”  
“I would hardly call that commandeering.”  
“--and shot up the international terminal at LAX.”  
“I didn’t fire a single shot.” I snapped, but the damage was done.  
“Needless to say, young lady, you’ve disturbed the peace.” He settled into his seat as I yelled,  
“I only did what was asked of me! Their agency was holding them hostage!”  
“Tell me about that.” He guided and I grumbled at how he was better at this than I was. When I was making this plan in my head, interrogation had not been a part of it. Then again, I was really flying by the seat of my pants on this one. Was it okay to tell him the truth? It wasn’t like lying was going to get me anywhere, they had the whole adventure on camera. They were only missing the why.  
“Before that,” I decided, “I need two things.”  
“Oh, this ought to be good.” He rolled his eyes.  
“First: these.” I pulled on my cuffs. He let out a big belly laugh like I’d made a great joke.  
“Ha! You think I’m gonna give you range-of-motion when you took out ten guards at the Forum, and fourteen more at LAX?”  
“Let’s be clear here…?” I started but stumbled when I came up blank on his name.  
“Hemingway.”  
“ _Hemingway_ , let’s be clear: I didn’t instigate anything.” I retorted. “If they had let those boys go home on their own, there would have been no need for me.”  
“Well, I hope number two is as funny as number one.” He smacked his lips, clearly ready to be done already.  
“I need to know if the plane made it to Seoul.” That soured him, and he huffed instead of answering. I would have growled at him if it would have been any help, but there was nothing for me to do at this point. What’s done was done, and really? What had I expected? Nothing, because I never bothered to think past getting them out.  
I swear I used to be better than this.

When he refused to answer, I figured I could goad him into it.  
“Oh come on,” I hounded, “I know you know.”  
“What’s it matter if it did or not?” He challenged.  
“What’s it matter?” I scoffed. “It was the whole point.”  
“The whole point, this whole mess...was to get those boys home?” He summarized, and I felt like banging my head against the table.  
“Yes, obviously.”  
“They hired you to get them home?” He jabbed next and I floundered.  
“Not exactly…”  
“Then exactly how did you know they needed saving?” We circled back in our waltz of questions to the beginning.  
“I’ll tell you as soon as you tell me if they made it or not.” We slipped into another staring contest, only broken when he glanced over his shoulder at the window behind him. A second later, a crackling intercom came on and announced,  
“Singapore Airlines, Flight 7 will land at Incheon International within the hour.”  
“And you have no jurisdiction, so you’ll leave them be?” I confirmed, staring hard at the window. My face stared back, bruised and busted, but there was a life there that hadn’t been seen in months. It chilled me just to look at it.  
“We’ll leave them be.” Hemingway nodded, and my gut believed him. “They’re too high profile for us to touch anyway.” He went on as I settled back into my chair. “So…?” He gestured for me to start my story, but I pulled hard at the handcuffs. With a heavy sigh and an eye roll that could move mountains, he stood, knees popping. He produced a small set of cuff keys from his pocket and came around to my side of the table to undo my restraints.  
The second I was free, I wanted to jump up. I wanted to knock him over and sprint for the door. I was confident enough in myself to get out of a police station...one of the most heavily armed and staffed police stations in the world…  
I rubbed my wrists instead.  
“Thanks,” I grumbled as he sat back down wearily.  
“Now, can we get this show on the road?” He asked, pulling out a pen and flipping his file to a blank piece of lined paper.  
“Why? Do you have somewhere to be? Doughnuts to take out?” I joked.  
He didn’t laugh.  
“Okay so…” I quickly moved on, biting my lip. “Where should I start?”  
“Tell me how you got out.”

* * *

“Comms check.” I called into the headset I pulled from my pack.   
“Five by five.” A voice answered, along with a distinct slurp of ramen that told me my eye in the sky was at a video game bar.  
“Jesus, are you eating?” I hissed, glancing to see if any of the boys noticed I was making this all up as I went.  
“You know what time it is here, right?” Kojima retorted snobbishly. “It’s a wonder I’m awake at all. I have drill in the morning!”  
“Whose idea was this! Huh, _Zeratul_?” I turned to face the wall, too embarrassed to let anyone else see how stupid this was going to end up being. His codename was a character from his favorite video game, one he was no doubt playing as he steered me into a death trap rescue op.  
“You didn’t say no!” He argued, and I swear to god, I could hear the noodles hanging out of his mouth.  
“Uhh, miss?” The Korean kid with the cheekbones tapped me on the shoulder, and I jumped around. They all looked at me like they knew I’d lost my mind, but were going to follow me anyway. The tall one had Bacon on his back, and I could see the passports in hand. They’d done everything that I asked and were ready for me to hold up my end of the bargain.  
“Alright Zeratul,” I ordered, “it’s now or never.” My voice changed. It was the one I used when I was covered in dust under a barbed wire crawl. The one that came out when there was no room for discussion, no time for error. The sergeant in me was still very much alive, despite my attempts to quell her. Kojima scrambled at the sound of it. I heard plastic ramen cups get tossed, fingers flying over a keyboard, and the short breaths of a soldier who knew exactly what was coming next.  
“Do you have the package?” He asked robotically.  
“Affirm, all nine of them!” I snapped back as I pointed to each member and lined them up against the wall. They moved quickly and quietly according to my instruction and some helpful translating from Cheekbones. “Set my stage, Z,” I commanded.  
“Roger, Sarge,” Kojima said, and I braced myself. “The Forum at Inglewood, capacity: 17,5. Been standing since 1967, renovated in ‘88 and ‘14.”  
“Schematics?” I asked, reaching for my back belt loop where my night sticks hung at the ready.  
“They’re a mess, but good news is we have multiple points of entry.”  
“What about tonight's schedule?”  
“Our boys are live at 1800 pacific standard time in the bowl.” I wanted to scoff at his choice of words; our boys? Kojima was Japanese and I was an American. How were they at all ours?  
“Any exhibition halls?” I continued, trying to get back into the rhythm of ignoring useless back thought.  
“Uhh...no--wait, yes. A small reception hall in use right now by...Sarge--” I put my hand to the headset, wondering what could have made him pause so suddenly.  
“What?” I pressed.  
“Who is _He Who Must Not Be Named_?” He asked, distinctly relaying each syllable, making sure he got them in the right order. Excitedly, I glanced back at the unsuspecting Koreans and couldn’t help but laugh to myself. My luck seemed to be on the mend! “Sarge? Who is it?” Kojima pressed.  
“It’s the Dark Lord. Are you telling me there’s a potter con? Seriously?”  
“I don’t know what that is, but it’s reserved until after the concert.” I felt his shrug across the ocean.  
“I bet they have cloaks.” I thought out loud. Where once our exfil had been nothing but hopeful thinking, a plan was starting to form.  
“Why would they have...who is the dark--” Kojima started on his crusade for answers, but there was no time. The plan was tentative and messy, but I liked it. I pulled one of my retractable nightsticks from its clip on my belt and swished it open with a flick of my wrist.  
Firstly, I never thought I would miss the feeling of something in my hands as much as I missed the cold touch of my chrome rods. Secondly, the boys looked terrified.  
“On the move!” I announced and kicked the door open again.  
We moved like—

_“Wait wait wait…” Hemingway hit the brake on my story. He held up his hand in disbelief. “You used those poor unsuspecting potter heads as cover?” His voice dripped with his skepticism, which I fully appreciated. It seemed too fantastic to be true, but true it was, and I grinned mischievously._  
_“The venue was crawling with people who knew the boys’ faces. We needed to get by unseen. Robes were a great idea.”_  
_“And you’re sure you didn’t get this story off the back of a drug-store spy novel?” He asked, and I laughed._  
_“You can’t make this shit up, Ernest!” I joked, but he dead-panned at my calling him by the author whose last name they shared._  
_“Keep going.” He barked and I grumbled._  
_“Tough crowd.”_  
_“You avoided security all the way to the convention hall, correct?” He led._  
_“Yes, but they caught up with us backstage.”_

“This place is like a fucking maze.” I groaned as I led the convoy of Koreans down a brightly lit concrete hallway, somewhere under or behind the arena.  
“Take your next left. Should be 100 ft from your last turn.” Kojima instructed. I looked back to see how far we’d come, checking on the weary faces at the same time. The tall one was carrying a slumped Bacon, Cat-eyed kid was helping the other tall one with the ears, and Cheekbones was bringing up the rear with Kyungsoo. I really should have asked for their names, but what good would it have done at this point?  
“How much further?” I asked, focusing back to the hall. My fingertips slid along the cinder block wall; counting, stressing, over-analyzing, remembering slowly what muscle memory had already taken care of.  
“After this left, you’ll come to a set of double doors. It’s the backstage exit, Sarge. Everything past it is in public eye.”  
“How many eyes we talking?” I asked as we made the left turn he'd mentioned. I could see the doors at the end, and through the brightly lit windows, multiple heads passing by.  
“I don’t have a heat map, all I have are blueprints. I can’t even see where you are for sure.” Kojima seemed upset knowing he couldn’t provide me with much help. I signaled our caravan to stop at the doors, fanning them down to sit low on the wall. When I peeked through the windows, I could see the chaotic carpet of an exhibition hall, and five dozen or so witches and wizards. They were all cloaked in full-length house robes that looked just like our ticket to freedom. When I hunkered back down, I gestured for Kyungsoo to join me at the front. He crawled up, eyes big and round. They paused me, how frightened they looked. This was not the face I remembered.  
“What’s the plan?” He asked and I sank deeper into that uncertainty. That wasn’t the voice I remembered either. But I quickly refocused, because now was definitely not that time for that.

“I’m going into that con to get robes for us. You guys need to stay down and out of sight here--”  
“어디있어?!” Muffled Korean shouts echoed down the hall, making everyone jump.  
“Shit,” I mumbled. Kyungsoo gasped and I swear he looked exactly like my mother. “I mean shoot, okay?! Stay here!” I snapped. His understanding was a jerky nod, and I swiftly crouched back down the hall. At the corner, I set my back against the wall and slowly snooped around. A dark-suited Asian man ran around another turn a hundred or so feet down from us. He had an earwig that he rambled into, but no weapon of any kind. I figured he was more ‘meat shield’ security than tactical. Probably because there would have been an issue with foreign nationals toting around unregistered firearms. I twirled my rod around my fingers absently, distracted by the memory that at one time, I had been that foreign national. The guard ran through, down another section of hall and disappeared. Seemed like he was as lost down here as we were.  
“Zeratul,” I whispered.  
“Copy.” My headset answered.  
“Is there any backup you can give me?”  
“Short of triggering the fire alarm, I’ve got nothing, Sarge.”  
“Now that you mention it…” I huffed. Plan C took a tentative shape. “Get that code ready,” I instructed, starting to head back down to the boys. “Set it off on my signal.”

_“So you’re the one who set off the fire alarm?” Hemingway asked._  
_“Naturally.” I lied._  
_“And you say you memorized the blueprints beforehand.” He reaffirmed, obviously not believing the censored version of the story I was feeding him. There was no way I was going to give up Kojima, so I changed some details here and there. Just little things, like his existence and all._  
_“So the guards found in hallway 7-F, one of whom you gave a severe concussion…” He shot me a look of disapproval, “were able to catch up to you because of the fire alarm?” He jotted something down, and I knew without looking that he didn’t believe me._  
_“Uhh...sure.”_

As I snuck back to the boys, more angry shouts could be heard, closer this time. I could even hear the pitter patter of combat boots, which made me giddy. I didn’t even get a chance to straighten though before Cheekbones jumped up and yelled,  
“조심해!”  
Pretty sure it meant ‘look out!’, because a second later, a big hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Instinct kicked in, which I was proud to say happened as quickly as it did when I used to train every day. I grabbed the wrist of the frankly giant Asian man who had me, put his arm in a lock, and walked him back into his partner who was coming around the corner.  
“Now!” I yelled into my mic. I kept the hold on the first guard and used him to balance as I kicked his partner back down when he tried to get up again. The hall was suddenly washed in neon red light as the fire protocols for the building were triggered.


	3. Mascara Isn't Required For A Massacre

****The fire alarm was blaring so loud, Kyungsoo felt like he was on stage, a subwoofer on each shoulder. They pounded into his head, dizzying and red, and the echoing hall only made it worse. He covered his ears with both hands, frantically searching for the girl. Ugh, if only he could remember her name, this would be a whole lot easier.

He spied her at the end of the hall, fighting two guards--scratch that--three guards. She had ahold of one and was using him to block the grabs of the second, while simultaneously kicking the third out of sight. Jongin latched onto Kyungsoo’s arm, his face a perfect portrait of petrified.

“What do we do?” He yelled right into Kyungsoo’s ear. It was the only way he’d be able to hear.

“She told us to stay here!” He yelled back, flinching away from the fight as it drew towards them.

“She wasn’t fighting our whole security detail when she said that!” He bit back. Kyungsoo and the rest of EXO crowded to the double doors as she inched towards them, punch after punch. Guards that they’d only known briefly crumbled under her nightstick and Kyungsoo couldn’t find a bone in his body that cared. If he’d been watching her with a critical eye as opposed to this adrenaline induced one, he would have noticed her moves. Was that a Judo grapple? A Karate block, but a Tae Kwon Do break? Her movements were jerky and aggressive, but they were practiced and effective. Plus, she took hits like no one he’d ever seen. A fist would slip through her block and Kyungsoo’s eyes would cross from the impact. But she whipped back, twice as fast, just as hard.

She was absolutely not the girl he remembered. This girl was fierce. This girl was commanding. She was powerful. She was graceful. She scared him...she excited him. Over the deafening alarm, the blood in his veins drummed in his ears, and he suddenly felt like running.

“We need to get out of here.” He turned to Suho, who looked at the girl. When she was too busy trying to stay alive to give him the order, he took matters into his own hands.

“She already told us the plan: get to the convention, get a disguise.” Suho recoiled from the fight but rallied his troops. “She’ll catch up with us!” He yelled over the alarm.

“Hopefully,” Kyungsoo added, and they ran.

Through the double doors, it was quieter but much more turbulent. The fire alarm was still going off, but the ceilings were higher in the hall, and the sea of bodies muffled the sound. Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin’s hand as they dove into the flood. It was like trying to cross a raging river; bodies and limbs and wands holding them at bay.

A second after they breached the tide, the girl burst through the doors after them, wildly searching. He locked eyes with her for a moment before he was shoved by a Slytherin and she was tackled from behind. Kyungsoo dropped Jongin’s hand when he saw her go down. Right then, all he could comprehend was that he needed to help her. She was fighting them all alone! For what? For him? She didn’t even know him! But he only made it a step back before Jongin had a hold of him again, and pulled him to the other side.

Pushing through the entrance to Hogwarts was hard enough, but once they were inside, convention officials tried to usher them back out again. Luckily, the staff seemed to stick to their own fandom because none of them recognized the boys. Suho quickly explained to the officials that they forgot their cloaks and that their friend they were carrying had fallen in the crowd. The staff didn’t look twice, just told them to grab extras from the merch table and get their injured friend outside. Kyungsoo hovered by the door, stalling to see if she was going to live up to his new opinion of her, while Minseok shoved a robe in his hands, black with dark blue trim: Ravenclaw. Appropriate. 

There was a shout from his right, and he couldn’t recover from his gawking fast enough to dodge the guard he vaguely remembered the face of. The man spun Kyungsoo around, hell only knows why he bothered, or what he planned to do after. It wasn’t like the guard could punch him. His face was the money maker after all. But it didn’t matter because, a second after the guard had him, he lost him...because she was there.

The Athena came up and around, centered in his blind spot, and sank some sort of stick in the arm that had ahold of Kyungsoo. No, not a stick--a  _wand_. It was pale and ribbed, with bulbs every few inches. The guard cried out and let go of Kyungsoo, which he took as his queue to get away. The girl threw all her weight into a front kick that she planted in the guard’s chest and sent him soaring. He toppled into the sea of people, bleeding, and yelling in Korean, a language that none of the wizards could understand.

“Come on!” She reached for Kyungsoo, and he immediately offered his hand to her. Of course, she grabbed his shirt front instead, and he took the time out of their highly dangerous and controversial rescue to deadpan.

Outside the convention center, the air was cool but was quickly being stifled by the mesh of bodies filing out. EXO found a haven of space beside an external support beam where they waited to regroup. They hugged each member who ran up like they hadn’t seen them in years until it was just Kyungsoo and the girl left in the swell.

She fished him along behind her roughly, head down but still adamantly searching. Her disguises had worked so well that not even she could pick EXO out of the crowd. Kyungsoo, however, didn’t need to see their faces to know that the hugging group of maniacs in the corner was his. He tried to get her attention and point them out, but the wide mouth of his hood slid off again, exposing him. Before he could fix it himself, she reached back and invaded his space. Her arms were around him and they stood chest to chest amidst the crowd.

 _Be afraid,_ he thought as she moved on him. She’s a living weapon! She stabbed a guy! But even as he tried to conjure up the fear, his heart only thumped faster when she glanced up into his face through her dark lashes. And that definitely wasn’t from fear.

Her eyes were a seafoam green color like they embodied the ocean he met her beside; the storm in them was just the same. Her crown of hair was more of a mess now, but it suited her just as well. She wore no makeup to speak of, but duh. She didn’t exactly need to do her eyeliner while making her battle plan. Mascara wasn’t required for a massacre. And finally, there was a tiny little freckle on the side of her mouth that demanded his full attention as she pulled his hood back over his head.

She was beautiful, he realized. Not because her face was nice or the body she pressed against him was fit. She was beautiful because for once, someone was shielding him from the world, hiding him down in a place where it was just the two of them, where she was the only one whose eyes could find him. It was the sort of intimacy he very rarely received living his life in the limelight. So he hid there with her for a long moment, as the crowd around them roiled like the sea in her eyes.

“You can’t possibly be her…” A ghostly whisper floated into the space between them.

“You’re not exactly what I remember either.” She snorted quietly, a small smile brushing across her lips.

“Are you...how are you…” He started to ask, but the weight of his words and the intrusion they posed sent her into retreat. First, it was her gaze, and then her arms.

“Let’s leave the past in the past, shall we?” She proposed dryly, withdrawing from him and their pocket universe.

“But how are you here?” He tried his best to reclaim the connection that was breaking, but she was pulling away too fiercely for him to find it again.

“I came to see what you were up to.” She lied with a shrug.

“No, Kojima called you, didn’t he?” Kyungsoo blurted. Her face fell into a fake pout as she avoided his gaze by searching the crowd once more.

“He was worried about you.” She answered. “And rightly so.” She added after the fact, a jab between the ribs he’d call it. But even with all her retreating, he wasn’t ready to return just yet.

“But why did _you_ come, though?” He stressed her involvement and was gifted with only a flicker of her gaze before it was gone forever.

“Because I was the closest…” she admitted, “and because I owe you.” Her eyes dropped to his hands like the statement was some sort of confession.

“Owe me--” He started to ask, but Suho was calling his name, and immediately she was moving, him in tow.

They made their way over to the side of the building to meet up with the boys, and she told Suho to stop yelling.

“What’s the plan now?” Minseok asked, swathed in his black and yellow robes. The girl glanced around, turning in a full circle, before landing on the street, specifically the tall blue sign at the corner.

“The bus stop!” She announced, and they confirmed that she had no idea what she was doing.

* * *

_“You’ll be happy to know the man you reportedly stabbed with...the elder wand...sustained no permanent damage.” Hemingway said tiredly, smacking his lips at the mention of the fantasy name. He didn't seem like the type who got his acceptance letter when he was twelve years old. In fact, he seemed more like a baseball and beer kind of guy, but one could always hope._

_“I mean, I should hope so.” I scoffed. “I poked him in the forearm, it’s not like I drove the thing through his heart.”_

_“You put something through someone else. I’d say that warrants a bit more concern.” He lectured, but I let it slide off._

_“He’s fine, move on.”_

_“Your empathy for human life is inspiring.” He jabbed but agreed to keep going._

_“About the bus.” I started, but he let out a big huff._

_“Ahh yes, the bus.”_

_“I did not hijack the bus,” I stated specifically._

_“We’ll never know for sure, now will we?” He shrugged. “Because you busted the interior camera.”_

_“I took out the camera because I didn’t know how well connected the people chasing us were.” I confessed. “The camera was on a closed feed, but I was being paranoid. Occupational hazard, I guess.”_

_“And what occupation is that?” He asked, and I remained silent. “Well?” He insisted because they had yet to confirm my identity. You don’t take your wallet on an op, and my dog tags were gathering dust on my bedside table. Short of pulling the‘give-her-water-and-then-run-her-prints-from-the-cup’  trick, I was a ghost to their system._

_“I paid the bus driver $500 to skip a few stops on his route.” I continued with my story, ignoring his question completely. "Hardly hijacking."_

_“Well, he states you threatened his life.”_

_“If that happened after he took the money, does it still count?”_

 

“I preloaded you an app with fare to your phone.” Kojima typed as we quickly made our way to the big squeaky public line.

“Where’d you get that kinda money?” I joked, knowing full well that soldiers typically didn’t get paid very much. I wasn’t really sure if he understood that Japanese public transpo and American public transpo were very very different.

“It’s not that much.” He batted my sass with his own. “It’s only...すごいね!” He suddenly screamed directly into my ear. I nearly toppled over as we tried to board the bus. “HOW MANY ARE YOU?” He demanded and I couldn’t help but laugh. That’s what you get for not checking the exchange rate beforehand! That’s what you get when you make me rescue nine kids and not just one!

Finally, I stood beside the bus driver as the boys loaded on, one by one. He was a squirrely looking fellow with-- _I kid you not_ \--a long greasy mullet and beady eyes. He looked like the grosser younger brother of Joe Dirt. He watched me like a hawk as each of my members got on, making sure I scanned my phone for all of them. Once we’d all crowded to the back, the bus took off at a slow crawl. There were one or two other passengers but they paid us no mind. The boys threw themselves into the seats, but I hovered in the aisle, too uneasy to sit down. Transportation was always the most dangerous part of any operation. There were just too many possible exposures, too many avenues to not clear.

“Zeratul, where am I headed on bus…” I checked for the carriage ID, “#212?”

“You’re on the orange line. It runs west to the coast.”

“What’s my game plan here, Z?” I asked, grabbing the handle bar above my head. “Was this enough? Can I drop them at the nearest fancy hotel and call it a day?”

“No, Sarge.” He replied carefully. “You have to get them home, put them on a plane.”

“You understand what a nightmare the airport will be, right?” I hissed, wanting more than anything to hang up on him and be done with all of this. This wasn’t what I signed up for. I was just supposed to grab Kyungsoo and jet. This mess was nowhere near tactical or viable. How was I supposed to get nine Koreans through security?

“Please, Harper…” Kojima’s voice was small. He knew better than to beg with me, but it didn’t stopped him from trying. “There’s no one else.”

“I didn’t want to get involved in the first place!” I whispered, turning away from the eyes behind me. 

“You taught me to never leave a man behind.” His fingers stopped clicking on his keyboard, and I could only hear the soft sound of his breath as he waited for me to cave. It was so cliqued, and what was even worse...was that it worked. 

“God dammit.” I cursed, furious that he knew me. At least, he knew who I used to be. I’d been decent once. Fair, proud, loyal. And I’d taught my men to be the same. Now...it was being thrown in my face like a bitter reminder. “ _Fine,_ ” I caved. “Fine. But you find me flights and a path there. I don’t want a single other complication. You hear me, private?”

“Yes ma’am!” He exclaimed and the fingers were flying.

I mumbled and I grumbled, and I wanted to blow his house down, but I threw myself beside the cat-eyed kid instead. He looked at me keenly, but I turned away from him with a pout.  

“We’re in luck!” Kojima said after a moment. “The orange line goes straight to LAX.”

“How very convenient.” I said through my teeth. It sounded much like a growl which made the kid beside me nervous.

“I don’t suppose you could rob them while you rescue them? Last minute bulk international flights are very expensive.” Kojima joked, apparently thinking I wouldn’t get up, turn to Cheekbones and beckon for his wallet.

“Gimme plastic.”

He only stared at me blankly. “I didn’t realize we were paying you for this rescue.”

“Oh, grow up.” I snapped. It was hardly a rescue worth charging for, seeing how big of a disaster it was turning out to be. But before I could spout off any of the shitty logistics to Cheekbones and damn near frisk him by force, a wallet was slapped into my waiting palm. The one that looked like a sheep, who was sitting a row up, didn’t even blink as I slowly slid out a credit card and handed the leather back to him. He didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Korean, but he seemed like he knew the money wasn’t for me, it was for them.

“Zeratul, card number…” I rattled off as the sheep kept a watchful eye on me.

“Good, cause I definitely did not have enough.” Kojima sighed in relief once the plane tickets were purchased. “Okay, the flight leaves in an hour and a half. That’s 30 minutes to get there, 30 minutes for security, and 30 minutes to board.”

“That’s too tight.” I disagreed while handing the card back to the sheep.

“It’s the only flight to South Korea leaving in the next five hours.”

“Well fine then.” I scoffed, glancing back at the boys as their heart rates started to come down. Bacon was resting his head on the leg of the tall one, Kyungsoo was holding the one that looked suspiciously like a teddy bear, while Cheekbones and sheep kid watched me expectantly. They were waiting for my lead, I knew, and the urge to quit while I was ahead engulfed me again. What really was the point of this? It wasn’t my fight. But the sting of having my own mantra thrown back in my face, and Kyungsoo’s breathless eyes boring into the side of my head pulled me back above the waves.

I needed to get my head on straight if I was going to finish this. Going through all the next steps we would take, I turned them over in my head, ordering their importance, arranging how I was going to translate my intentions, but...no matter how I went about it, there just wasn’t enough time. Not when I had to speak through a mouthpiece. Not when we were carrying someone. I had to find a way to go faster, or we were going to be stuck in LA forever.

Cheekbones saw me move to the row with Bacon and the tall one, but he didn’t stop me. He didn’t even intervene when I grabbed Bacon by the shoulders and sat him up. The kid’s eyes were unfocused, and he made a noise in the back of his throat, like a puppy who was still half asleep. This funk he was in seemed too deep. Loss was a beast, I knew first hand, but it didn’t have me spiraling into a fugue state of non-response. I moved a finger back and forth in front of his face, but he didn’t register it. Did he even feel me touching him? I gave him a hard shake, but his head just bobbed. Behind me I heard the boys whispering to each other, the worry obvious in their voice no matter the language. They wanted him to wake up as badly as I needed him to. He had to come back, to return from wherever he was hiding. At hospitals, what do they do to restart a heart?

They give it a jolt. So I did the only thing I could think of, short of shocking him with the bus AED—

I slapped him.

The smack had a wet sound that bounced around the small space, making all the other people on the bus quickly look away or move further up as we rolled to another stop.

Bacon flexed his jaw and slowly slowly reached up to touch the sting on his cheek. He had long spindly fingers and soft hands. In contrast to my dark scarred ones, they were perfection. I didn’t have time for his readjustment though, as he ever so slowly met my gaze. I needed him mobile, and I needed it yesterday. I touched the hand he held to his face and he jerked, like I’d surprised him, appearing out of thin air right before his eyes. Those same eyes that finally found me said he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

“It’s nice to meet you Bacon,” I said quietly, taking his hand into my own (and secretly checking his pulse in the process), “I’m Harper.” His confused gaze bounced from my face, to our hands, to the bus, to the frozen expressions of his other members.

“뭐 ...” he muttered, and it was enough to break the ice.

“ _Hyung_!” The tall one exclaimed and all the boys swarmed in at once, all wanting a piece of bacon. I had to crawl my way out of their group hug as their explanations sang off all at the same time, each one trying to tell him what was happening, who I was, what I’d done, where we were headed. At least I assume that’s what they were saying. I climbed up into a seat far enough away that their glittery love wouldn’t rub off on me, and checked my watch. With a moan, I realized that we weren’t making good enough time, even now that we were all walking on our own. The bus was just too slow.

“Z, what’s my stop?” I asked my headset.

“Is Baekhyun okay?” He asked, and I rolled my eyes. I had been under the impression that Kojima only knew Kyungsoo. How or why was a mystery, but it seemed like a simple enough bromance. Now I find out that he knows them all? He fooled me, he fooled me good. I’d played right into his scheming, _‘no man left behind’_ speech. Seriously, how had I lost my edge? Was I really this gullible now?

“He’ll be fine.” I grumbled, not wanting to tackle that question until it was absolutely necessary. “Now where do we get off?”

“At Prairie, and then you’ll have to hoof it to the terminal.” He relayed happily.

“How far is the ruck?”

“Just 0.4 miles.”

“That’s another ten minutes!” I exclaimed.

“I thought you ran a six minute mile, sarge. Or are you that out of shape?” He poked and I growled. I would punch him the next time I saw him, I decided. Right in his glasses, cause I wasn’t the one asking for it!

“We’re gonna have words, you and I. And no, I can’t go any faster when I have nine ducklings following me.” I snapped back, and stood up again, unable to sit anymore.

“I look forward to those words, Sergeant.” He chuckled. “But they can keep up with you, I promise.” I heard him open a new cup of ramen, like his job was nearly done. “They have physical requirements they have to meet too.”

“Yeah well, they’re not good enough.” I barked. Cheekbones shot me a look from his cuddle puddle, but I ignored the question. He wanted to know what was going wrong, but I wanted to know when something was finally going to go right.

Deciding to try that luck I picked up on earlier, I made my way to the front of the bus, where squirrelly Joe Dirt was eyeing me in the big rear view mirror. When I got close enough, I heard him muttering to himself under his breath, something insulting or sexist I’m sure.

“Hey, so…” I looked around his little cockpit for a name tag of some sort, but there was none. I didn’t think he’d take kindly to being called _‘grease-ball’_ , but I wasn’t really in the mood to be polite. “Is there any way you can go faster?”

“I go the posted speed limit.” He sneered and that was that. All my polite bones were broken.

“Well, you need to go faster. And you need to make fewer stops.” I listed cordially, false lightness to my tone. He gave me a big ol’ stink eye and asked,

“Why the hell would I—” but I cut him off by grabbing one of my batons and smashing the on-board camera to pieces. Bits of lens fell into his lap as he jumped in his seat, the bus swerving into the next lane.

“Pull yourself together, greasy joe,” I snarled, steadying myself against the stairs, “I'm doing you a favor.” He didn’t bother to respond, only glared at me with those small eyes.

“Cheekbones,” I called, and tried to pick him out of the Korean pile at the back. He quickly stood, although I wasn’t sure how he knew his nickname, and met me at the front. “Got any cash?” This time he reached for his wallet without argument and handed me a few bills.

“How’s…” I counted and turned back to the driver, “$200?” Bus man scoffed and I begrudgingly added another Benjamin. “$300?”

“Don’t make me laugh!” He spat and I slapped all the bills down on his little table.

“$500, take it or leave it.” I hissed.

“No deal!”

“Listen, slime stick, either you take this money or I’ll do to your face what I did to your camera.” I threatened and leaned in real close as the bus clambered to a stop. He smelled like old McDonald’s, and not in any sort of good way. It was like someone had dunked his head in the fryer a few times, and left him to saturate overnight. I wanted to gag, but I also needed this deal, so I pushed further into his space.

He seriously considered saying no, I could tell by the way his hand fingered the door mechanism, itching to open it for the people waiting on the street. But, in the end, he wrinkled his nose and the door stayed shut.

“Good choice.” I jeered and went to usher the rest of the passengers off.


	4. The Luxury of a Full Advance

“So, the bus driver,” Hemingway exhaled, “he took the money.” My back was starting to hurt from sitting in this uncomfortable chair for so long, and I switched which leg I had crossed.

“Yes,” I answered. This whole charade was getting boring. The fear from earlier, plus the adrenaline of yesterday, were long gone now that Hemingway and I had been cooped up in here for nearly three hours. How much longer was he going to do this for? Surely he wanted a break.

“Right off the bat?” He continued distractedly, jotting down my responses.

“Yes.”

“With no coercion on your part.” He reiterated, guiding me to his point like I was some sort of newb.

“What can I say?” I shrugged snobbishly. “LA should find better city employees.”

“Well, they have been looking for a reason to fire him.” He caught me off guard with this free detail, and I leaned in, finally interested.

“Oh really?”

“Apparently he likes to skip stops.” Hemingway shrugged.

“No shit?” I chuckled, marveling at the universe for its weird sense of humor. “Guess my luck really  _ was  _ holding out.”

“So you make it to the airport. Then what?” He led on.

“Then we went in.”

“Where security was waiting for you?”

“Not airport security.” I pointed out.

“No, private security.” Hemingway readjusted in his seat, setting his mouth in an even deeper frown than it had been the whole time if that was even possible. “Men who had no business enforcing the law at an international terminal.” I cocked an eyebrow at him, half of me thinking this was a trick, and half of me thinking he’d been on my team all along.

“Whoa there, Hemingway. You sound suspiciously like you’re coming over to my side.”

“There are no sides, just the truth.” He said it so flippantly like he actually believed it.

“Of course there are sides!” I scoffed. After so many hours in here together, I hadn’t pegged him as an ignorant. “There has to be because the truth is relative.” Life had taught me that lesson again and again, more bitter and depressing each time.

“You learn that in Afghanistan?” He fired back.

Definitely a trick. “Or was it Syria? Libya?” He listed off some the locations that the United States had a heavy military presence in, hoping he’d pinpoint where I served without knowing. It was a wild shot in the dark, but it was credible. Your occupation always changes you; how you look, how you act, how you respond to situations. It didn’t take a genius, or even a green detective to see that I had training, and the most common form of training was military.

“You took a big chance just then, didn’t you Ernest?” I acknowledged his leap. It would be dumb to assume that I could hide behind my lack of identification forever. Three hours seemed like a good record, but sooner or later they were going to find me. And this would be where they would start. I’d bet good money that there were three or four desk jockeys behind that glass right now, vying for my first hint. They could find you with so little these days...

“Is it going to pay off?” Hemingway pressed. It would probably be better to not say anything at all, to starve them of the satisfaction. But my butt was numb, and I was hungry, and I was sick and tired of sitting in this damn room. I wanted this to be over with, I wanted to go home.

“Yeah, alright.” I shrugged casually, figuring to hell with it. “But listen, what I did today has nothing to do with my service.” I didn’t think my saying it would at all change what he thought, but I felt the need to clarify, if only for myself. What I did in the military had nothing to do with what I did for those South Koreans.  _ How  _ I did it, was a little different. But that’s not what he asked.

“Are you sure about that?” He leaned back in his chair and dropped his pencil in the folder. It was the kind of stance your dad would take when he didn’t believe your excuse for being out after curfew.

“Are you about to brand me as some kind of terrorist because I helped Koreans? They’re southerners!” My heart sped up as the thought left my mouth. Here was another thing I hadn’t even thought about when I agreed to help them: what my own country would think of me once I had.

“No, I just think that a lot of good men and women go over there, see things, hear things that… _ change  _ their relative truth.” Ernest was picking his words carefully, probably because it was such a huge elephant to invite into the room. Every other TV show, every other movie, they were all about the grey area the US was living in fighting this war. I wasn’t there to discuss the finer details of my stance on the matter, but if he said one thing out of place, you bet your ass I would pop off.

“You’re not wrong,” I countered, “but everything I did, I did because I believed it was the right thing to do.”

“You gave a man a concussion—” He threw his hands in the air, seemingly much more exacerbated than he had been letting on. He was sick of being in here, I was sick of being in here, we should both just leave! But no…we had to account for every one of my sins.

My eye roll should have caused tsunamis as he went off on his spree. “Aaaaaaaaand we’re listing again.”

“You stabbed a man with a stick—”

“A  _ wand  _ and he’s fine.”

“You bribed a city employee—”

“Apparently, I’m not the first.”

“And let’s not forget the show coming up where you broke one man’s jaw, and shattered another’s arm.” He flipped to the next page in the folder, revealing pictures of bruised faces, and medical charts outlining just how badly I’d ruined someone’s time.

“Shattered is a harsh word.” I turned away, not wanting to look at them.

“What word would you rather use?” He mused at my discomfort, but that wasn’t exactly what it was. I’d done much worse to people. I will admit here and now that I’d committed my fair share of killing in the line of duty…but what I did at LAX wasn’t wrapped in any flag but my own. I was fighting for my life, and instinct kicked in. I didn’t mean to hurt them so badly. At the time, all I could see were openings and soft spots, not faces or pain. They probably screamed, but I couldn’t even tell you what it sounded like.

“Unavoidably hurt?” I offered instead.

“Oh really?” Ernest lifted a bushy brow at me, another ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face. “You don’t think any of this could have been prevented?”

“We already went through this!” I snapped, letting my annoyance get the best of me too. “I was not the instigator, I was the response. I did what I had to do based on the actions taken by that agency. But yes, this all could have been avoided had that company treated those boys like humans instead of _singing_ _dancing_ _livestock_.” I pounded out the syllables on the table to make my point. He hadn’t been there! He didn’t see the state Bacon was in! That kid was destroyed, and his managers expected him to sing and dance for a million crazy girls? How was that humane? How was that compassionate? They deserved to lose whatever revenue they did by canceling the show, and I was glad as hell those boys got home safely.

“I don’t presume to understand the cultural differences here, and neither should you.” Hemingway tried to curb my anger with some sort of lecture, but I battered it down.

“I did two tours in Southeast Asia. I understand their commitment and their silence. They suffer and they smile. It’s how they are.”

“If you wanted to advocate so badly on their behalf, why didn’t you do it the right way? The—”

“The legal way?” I cut him off again, and he realized he may have pushed me too far. “The way that’s as broken as it is ineffective? That is not my arena, and let’s not forget that one of those boys had to go home to a dead mother. I stuck to what I was good at.”

I told myself to take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. My passion was getting the better of me, and goddammit, I did not want to go to jail. Hemingway, in turn, gazed at me from his side of the table, aware that I was too hot at the moment to poke, but still not getting up to finish this never-ending interrogation.

The value of money was hardly measured by how much you had. It was the status, the opportunities, the threat of being without it, that made everyone learn its language. Things seemed cheaper in America, but that was only because $500 was actually 500,000 won. Significantly fewer zeroes, but all the more influence.

After she,  _ Harper _ , seized the bus, it was a quick trip to the airport. They didn’t even have to hike up from the street. Apparently, she’d paid enough in both money and threats to get what she wanted. Kyungsoo sat uncomfortably as he stared at the back of her head. She was so aggressive now, sealed off by bitter borders, not letting a hint of the girl he’d met shine through. Junmyeon told them after he’d forked over all his cash that she resorted to violence so quickly and so easily, that it had to be a habit. Normal people don't just automatically go from cash to fists in the same sentence unless they’re used to it.

And then they all looked at Kyungsoo, questioning him! Like he had any answers to give. She was as much a mystery now as she was when he first saw her, perhaps even more so. When he couldn’t offer them any insight, EXO turned to Suho, who just heaved a sigh. This was the price of getting home, he said. Condone the violence, or stay hostage to the expensive water and tiny bags of peanuts at the convention center.

It wasn’t hard to figure out which everyone was going to choose.

Harper stood beside the door as they all filed off the bus, eyes ticking over them, doing the same headcount Suho constantly did. When they were all accounted for, she gestured to the driver, likely something obscene because he furiously slammed the doors shut and plowed into traffic without bothering to look.

“She makes friends wherever she goes, doesn’t she?” Junmyeon muttered as he passed out the passports, shooting D.O. a special kind of irritated look. Kyungsoo ignored it; something about the  _ ‘definitely discussing it later’ _ that he was not looking forward to. Suho probably didn’t believe him when he said he had no answers about her. As a matter of fact, none of them seemed to believe that he had no idea what kind of person she was. Even if he told them all about the girl he’d met that night, they would all tell him it was a different person.

The thought was still crossing his mind when Harper corralled them all into a circle and used Suho as her personal mouthpiece.

“Stick close to each other. Head straight for security. No matter what: don’t stop for them, don’t stop for  _ me. _ You all get on that plane or so help me I will throw you back in that dressing room bathroom myself. Are we clear?” The boys all nodded. Her pep talks needed work, but she got her point across.

 

In a tight blob, they entered the international terminal. To try and seem inconspicuous, Harper lassoed herself around Baekhyun’s arm, looking like a young mixed couple. He went rigid at her touch but quickly relaxed into it as the automatic doors slid open for them. At least if shit hit the fan, everyone could count on Baek to survive, because there was nowhere safer to be than in her grasp.

The terminal was shaped like a giant open hangar, with what seemed like miles between check-in and security. They clopped along on the bright white tile, keeping a wary eye out for guards that could have followed them from the convention center, and between the United and Singapore Airlines booths, a cluster of dark suits stood at the ready. They looked like a group of secret agents, earwigs, and shades in sparkling shape. Harper immediately ducked her head into Baekhyun’s shoulder, using his frame as a block to peak around. She didn’t seem too intimidated, but EXO let out a collective gulp.

It was  _ their  _ security. 

The men who’d followed them from Seoul. They hadn’t been at the arena because they were only scheduled to be there for show time, but Kyungsoo guessed that they’d been sent ahead the minute Harper busted down the dressing room door.

These were guys Kyungsoo met before he even debuted, men he’d known for years. All those caring feelings he couldn’t find before came bubbling up to the surface as Harper released Baek and stepped out of the safety of their group.

“Wait, no! Tell her to stop!” Jongdae hissed to Kyungsoo, but there was nothing he could do. She was out of arm’s reach and calling out to her would only draw attention to themselves. “That’s Kunwoo’s brother!”

“We have to get to the gate, we have to. She said not to wait for her.” Suho ordered even as their pace towards the line slowed.

“She’s going to kill them!” Dae whined.

“She’s  _ not  _ going to kill them.” Kyungsoo quickly defended her, although he wasn’t sure why it flew out without his say so.

“You said she stabbed a guy already!”

“With a stick!” He tried to downplay it.

“Uhh, that was a wand,” Jongin interjected, but Soo cut him off with a glare.

“She’s dangerous!” Jongdae snapped as if Kyungsoo had proved the point for him.

“Would you rather go back to the arena?” Suho intervened with a hiss. “Miss the funeral? Let Baekhyun get fired?” The members eyed each other, weighing the expressions of the other to see if they were willing to let their friends get beat up if it meant they’d get to go home.

“No…” Jongdae finally sighed. Junmyeon put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed, because he was feeling the pressure too, they could tell.

“Then we do this her way.”

“I trust her.” Baekhyun piped up, and everybody looked at him. He had a tendency to believe blindly, mainly because he was a puppy at heart, but it was a pure sort of opinion that tipped the balance just enough.

“Let’s get home, and we’ll apologize to Kunwoo later.” Junmyeon finalized, and just like that, their group had momentum again.

“We’ve been in the US too long.” Chanyeol quipped with a grin, tottering along at the back, having way too much fun for the situation. “We sound like Cowboys.”

“Ugh,” Minseok scoffed playfully, “someone get me a  _ hanbok  _ .” The boys all chuckled and were still chuckling right as the fighting started.

I will admit that my approach wasn’t exactly subtle, but we were at the end of the line. All I had to do was distract the guards long enough for the boys to get through security. From there, the airport would keep them safe. There was no way LAX would allow a group of Koreans to detain another group of Koreans in their terminal. Laws and such.

I marched up to the suits as the boys headed for international waters. My head was down and my hands gripped the batons on my back belt loop. The only amount of surprise I had was that they’d think I was unarmed. It was too optimistic to think they didn’t already have my picture, my name, and maybe even my service record. But my batons, they were my constant advantage. Small, concealable, and particularly destructive, I’d fought my way out of plenty of situations with my trusty sidekicks after the ammo ran dry. And now I would do it again because the last thing I wanted was to be shot in the back by police for bringing a gun and using lethal force. They tended to shoot first in those kinds of situations.

 

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of a full advance, because one of the guards caught sight of my Korean boy band hiding behind a Chinese tour group.

“Kim Junmyeon!” He shouted and I knew my time was up.

Batons make a pretty sound when whipped through the air. They sing a sort of harmonic tune until they’re halted by something...

Like mine was by his face.

The other travelers in our immediate vicinity started to scream and run when I arched my second stick onto the raising arms of the next suit. I turned into the momentum and lashed my combat boot across his jaw, putting him down.

People were shouting, bodies were scrambling, out of the corner of my periphery I saw the boys being pushed along with the crowd, the airport staff ushering people away from the scuffle. I dodged the punch of a guard and swiped his feet out from under him with my baton. Before I could reset, another bear-hugged me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I tested his balance by lifting both legs and bucking at the guard coming for my front. It pushed him back enough that he released me. With the drop, I caught his arm, spun around his back, twisted and pulled. His arm made a sick popping sound and he cried out. Was it out of the socket? Probably. Was it broken? Most likely. But it put him out of commission and I kicked him out of my way.

They came two at a time then, and I lost all visual on the boys, too busy trying not to be beaten to a pulp. Figuring I needed a leg up, I ran and jumped on top of the closest ticket counter, swinging my baton along the side, making them jump back and give me a pocket of space. TSA was shutting down the checkpoint, but I couldn’t see my guys, so I hoped and I assumed that they’d made it in.

 

Focusing back on the people who were trying to end me, I dropped to a crouch, supported myself with a hand and bicycle kicked the guards in front of me. It was a game of bob and weave at this point. I had to dodge their grabs and holds. If they got their hands on me, I’d be finished. Despite the fact that I was stronger than most men I knew, I wasn’t enough to fight off the weight of five angry Asians. So when I’d made my opening, I lept from the counter and took off towards the exit. The boys were taken care of, it was time to get the hell outta there. But before I could taste sweet freedom, two guards stepped in my path, and another two flanked my right. I veered to the left but backtracked when I saw two more. They had me surrounded, and it wasn’t just bodyguards. TSA finally joined the party, which was unpleasant since I knew they were armed.

_ It’s fine,  _ I told myself. I’d fought my way out of worse situations. Couldn’t really think of any at the moment, but I’d make do. I had my batons, my objective was met...it was a win for the most part. I windmilled my sticks, demanding more room as they pushed in, and was just starting to consider the consequences of getting caught when my whole world went ironclad. My muscles clenched like there was a vice on each limb and joint, and any free room I had went into arching my back involuntarily. The first thing that came to mind while I was unable to move was,  _ ‘electrocution’ _ .

They tased me!

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to be hit with a stun gun, I can tell you it’s not fun. Find a thesaurus, and look up the word ‘ _ awful’. _ Seriously, being tased is a bad bad time. I remembered the first time I’d ever been volted to high heaven as I laid writhing on the ground in the airport: it was during hell week at boot camp. I was still coming off the high of beating almost everyone at the obstacle course. While I didn’t get first, I at least beat Tinker and the other ass wipes who still liked to chant  _ ‘Here comes the Baroness’  _ when I entered the room. We were ushered into our classroom where the Drill Sergeant had laid out mats like for gymnasts. He told us to break off by squad and take a cushion. Tinker and the other soldiers in my unit crowded towards the back, no worries past what MRE they were gunning to grab at lunch.

I’d known Tinker since my freshman year of high school. We had homeroom together, we played sports together, we went to prom together, we even enlisted together. Now we were getting tased together.

He linked arms with me on my right, giving me an apologetic grin, and another guy took my left. My DS stood behind us and counted down from three, two, one--

Have you seen that YouTube video of the cadet who grabs the assistants junk while she’s stunned? That’s pretty much what it was like. And it wasn’t a feeling I ever wanted to experience again, yet here I was: in the arms of the LAPD, being dragged out of LAX, the toes of my boots bouncing over the gravel. Here I was with Hemingway, sweating out the end of this devastating interview.

 

“And that’s it?” He asked.

“That’s it.” Retelling it all made it sound completely unbelievable, but I was used to outrageous things being the truth.

“It’s quite the tale.” The old detective shook his head tiredly and shut his folder with a slap. Everything that I told him could be corroborated with surveillance footage. Well, everything but the bus, but that didn’t count. Still, one girl breaking out nine pop stars, using only batons and harry potter merch?

“If you sell the movie rights, I expect a cut of the profits.” I joked.

“There is one thing I still don’t know.” He leaned in on his elbow, giving me the same kind of look he gave when he guessed I’d served in the military. It was a look only someone who’d been around the block a few times had, the one that listened to their gut more than their evidence file.

“What’s that?” I asked uncomfortably.

“What was your exit strategy?”

Our final staring contest was interrupted by the door suddenly flying open, and both our surprised faces when an exquisitely dressed Asian man and a briefcase walked in.

“My client won’t be saying another word.” He had a high voice, but in a tall,  _ ‘I-own-this-building’  _ sort of way. He also had impeccable timing because I was just about to throw myself at Hemingway and get locked up for life instead of answering that question.

“Your  _ client _ ?” Hemingway twisted around in his chair to gape at the intruder.

“Yes, I am her attorney.”

“My  _ attorney _ ?” I shared Hemingway’s surprise. As far as everyone here was concerned, I’d waived my right to counsel, and it wasn't like I had a lawyer on retainer to call anyway. Also, was he not like...nine hours late?

“Yes.” The lawyer answered both of our questions, and then stepped back, gesturing for Hemingway to stand. He was jockeying for the detective’s seat, and it was  _ quite  _ the dismissal. Ernest was clearly offended, but not even he could sass at attorney-client privilege. So he stood with a huff, giving both of us the angry eye before marching out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Personally, I don’t think it was fair, since all I’d been was compliant. But I supposed he was judging me by my company.

“Hey, I didn’t--” I started to explain that I neither called an attorney, nor could I afford one, but the man held up a finger to silence me. We lingered in a choked quiet for several moments before I heard a soft  _ ‘click’  _ from the speakers in the ceiling, the flip of a switch. He had us wait for them to turn off the recorder before he grabbed Hemingway’s abandoned chair and quickly made himself at home, as straight-backed and formal as I was used to. The dreadful thought that he was an old friend of an old family I used to know crossed my mind and made me nervous, but I caught sight of a  _ Taegukgi  _ pin on his fancy leather case, which only put that fear to rest and raised another one.

“You’re Korean?” I asked. Whether he would silence me again or not would cost him his finger, and I hope the glare I shot him was enough to convey that.

“Very astute.” He brushed off the accusation in my voice, unloading a file similar to Hemingway’s, only instead of English, it was in squiggles. “I’m  _ South  _ Korean, it that was your next question.” He mused, carefully insulting me in the process.

_ “It wasn’t.”  _ I snapped. I don’t know, I just figured, maybe it was common sense? I kidnap South Koreans, a South Korean lawyer shows up. Doesn’t that just make sense? Which meant he was intentionally being an asshole. I knew lawyers were typically dastardly, all of the JAG stiffs could attest to that, but to their own clients even?

Better question: Was I even his client?

“Good,” He continued through my glare, which was a considerable feat, “at least this conversation won’t be as dull as it will be short.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I could feel the snob in me starting to rise up. I was too drained to deal with this, not after three hours of Hemingway’s monotonous interrogation. It’d left me too brain dead to navigate safely through legal town. “Now, what did you tell him?” He asked, pen poised over his file.

“Are you even a real lawyer?” I blurted because I mean, he hadn’t even introduced himself and he was expecting me to launch into that whole story again just like that? I don’t think so. Instead of answering, he plopped down his pen and went back into his bag for a small tablet that he propped up in front of me. “What the hell is this?”

“This,” He sighed as he pushed the ‘on’ button, “is your only chance. And yes,” the screen filled with the face of another Asian man who smiled at me politely from behind a big desk, “I am a real lawyer. I’m just not  _ yours _ .” He leaned back in his stolen chair smugly as the tiny man on the screen called for my attention.

 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Harper.” He greeted, folding his hands neatly on his tabletop; an unfamiliar outline of cityscape scrawling out the window behind him.

“Uhh, it’s morning, and how do you know my name?” I looked between the tablet and the lawyer uncertainly. Which one was I supposed to look at?

“I’ve been hearing your name all day, and pardon my time zone difference. I’ve just had lunch. Did you have breakfast?” His tone was pleasant, like having a chat with an old friend. It irked me that he knew my name when not even Hemingway did. Was this man really better connected than America’s finest?

“Oh yes,” I rolled my eyes, “The LAPD served me a steaming bowl of incarceration, an eventful side of interrogation...and bad coffee.” The tiny man laughed out loud, which I wasn’t particularly fond of. My sarcasm wasn’t supposed to be funny, it was supposed to be insulting damnit! “Who are you and what do you want?” I asked, just to stop him from laughing.

“My name is Kim Young-min, and I am the CEO of SM Entertainment.” I was quick to put together the dots, but I still couldn’t believe it. So soon? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours and here was the big boss, ready to finish me.

“Are you here to sue me or something?” I tried to put up a brave front, but in the back of my mind, I was shaking. How was I supposed to get out of this? This wasn’t something my batons could fix. “Because go right ahead. I got nothing--” Maybe if I played strong, they would think I was so. It was how I lived most of my life, fake it til you make it. But whatever anxiety I possessed was starting to come out on my brow.

“I believe the proper term is, ‘I  _ have  _ nothing’,” He corrected my English, which was as funny as it was sad. I probably only laughed because I was so used to it. In Japan, they would correct me all the time, baffled by how I couldn’t speak my own language, let alone another one. “But no, I’m not planning on taking any legal action against you in regards to the rescue of my employees yesterday.”

“Rescue?” His choice of word was particular, and I didn’t think he was the type to not prepare beforehand. He looked well groomed and powerful. Not like a man who was going to misuse a word that could very clearly take this from one side of the scale to the other.

“Of course!” He exclaimed. “The American branch of SM went too far! They were clearly acting on their own, without my authorization. What kind of animals refuse to let a friend attend their own mother’s funeral?” I glanced at the lawyer, but he seemed completely uninterested in the exchange. Did he think it was outrageous? Because he seemed like the type who would keep someone from their mother’s funeral…just saying.

“So it’s the American’s fault?” My lip curled at his explanation. “ _ How original. _ ” I mean, the whole world was blaming us for everything, why not tack on this as well?

“The  _ fault  _ lies with me, as I am the head of the company.” He emphasized ‘ _ fault’  _ like he was a little insulted I even insinuate he run his company any other way than wholesomely. “I’m not here to reprimand you, Ms. Harper. I’m here to reward you.”

“Reward me?” I tested, but he nodded adamantly. “For kidnapping your employees?”

“ _ Rescuing  _ .” He held up a finger in correction.

This had never happened to me before. I didn’t know how to handle someone paying me when I was sure they were going to punish me. You’re supposed to just go with stuff like that, right? I was still uncuffed, but it wasn’t like I could fight him through the screen. Lawyer man though…

“Okay well, I like money.” I threw out. It was worth a shot at least. He was offering, after all!

“I’d like for you to come work for us.”

“Money and food--I’m sorry, what?” I was still listing the things I liked when he threw out that bombshell.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to move to South Korea and work for SM.” He repeated himself, a smug grin on his thin lips.

“Um, how about a timeshare or something instead?” I chuckled nervously, a part of me already discouraged that I wasn’t going to get a lump sum.

“We have a very lucrative benefits package.” He sounded like the host on a game show, presenting me with what I could win if I picked the correct door. In this case, though, he was only offering me one door. “We would pay for your relocation, plus your room and board for the life of your contract.” Contract piqued my interest. There weren’t very many jobs that required that kind of thing anymore, at least not in the fast food industry I’d been in for the last few months.

“And how long would that be exactly?” I asked, wondering if it was like the book I’d signed for the military.

“Thirteen years.”

“THIRTEEN YEARS!” I shouted. The lawyer jumped, and I swear there was a tremor against the glass like someone was ready to sprint in if they had to. “You are out of your damn mind!”

“I would go ahead and put in your two weeks’ notice for you, but...you are unemployed. Quite frequently it seems.” His eyes moved away from the camera and to something else on his screen. Information of some sort that was undoubtedly about me. How could he know that I was jobless already? That only happened yesterday. They couldn’t even have gotten me out of their system that quickly! I clamped my mouth shut, suddenly unsure of what I should or shouldn’t say. I hated this type of thing, where you reveal everything about yourself in two or three little words. I wasn’t the type to pick up on those, but apparently, he was. Apparently, this CEO Kim was a regular spymaster.

“The world is quite a different place after coming home from war, isn’t it?” He looked back at me, and the mood suddenly darkened.

“Go fuck yourself.” I gritted. There was no way in hell I was going to follow him down that rabbit hole, not when he had absolutely no idea who I was, or what I’d gone through. Sure, every male in his country was required to serve, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t have the blood of hundreds on his hands, or the nightmares to back them up. Who was he to pretend like he could compare? 

“The family we leave behind often put down their own struggles to help us take up ours.” I reached forward and snatched the tablet from the table, and brought it right up to my eyes.

“Listen, whoever the fuck you are, if you so much as touch my family--”

“You should congratulate me, Ms. Harper.” He cut me off, knowing he was perfectly safe to do so, which made me more pissed off and more powerless to do anything about it. “I am now the proud new owner of your mother’s mortgage loan. It seems she is behind on a payment, or three.” I dropped the tablet back to the table and stared dumbstruck at his tiny manipulative face.

“What…” I knew my mother had been having some issues. It was difficult to be a single mom, and have an unplanned bird back in the nest. But I had no idea she was that far behind.

Or he could be lying. That was always an option.

“I could very easily transfer your first paycheck, which is considerable, to offset the balance. You’ll find that I am a very generous credit company.”

He had me and he knew it. It would take a sociopath to not agree to save their mother. While I did sometimes consider it, I cared way too much to tell the world to burn.

“How do I make you go away?” I said as lowly as I could. It felt horrid, playing like I had anything to bargain with when he clearly held all the cards and knew it.

“You come to Seoul.” He said easily.

“And you’ll leave my mother alone?” I clarified for no other reason than to hear him say it.

“Of course! And, if it makes it easier, I won’t terminate EXO’s contracts, and you can work with them.” Those were the boys he was talking about, the boys I’d just jeopardized my freedom to save. They were called EXO. I remembered the faces that I’d put on that plane: Kyungsoo, Cheekbones, Bacon, the tall one, the cat-eyed kid, the sheep…the other tall one. EXO is what their fans chanted for them, it was who they were. And yet--

“Terminate their contracts?”

“Yes,” He said it nonchalantly, not like destroying the boys that I would rather see content than not was beyond reproach, “I am perfectly within my rights to do so, with them refusing to perform and such. We lost millions.”

“You are one twisted fuck, you know that, right?” I couldn’t help myself, it sort of just slipped out. Seriously? He’s putting up a false front by telling me he wants to reward me, then demands I move across the world, blackmails my mother to do it, and then says he’ll throw in the futures of nine other people for giggles. He was demented!

“Do try to speak like a lady, Ms. Harper. You represent SM now. Lawyer Kwik will take you through the next steps, getting a visa and--” He started to arrange the things on his desk, and at his name, the attorney came to life. He shuffled papers around like a pro, and the briefcase was back, but I quickly held up both hands.

“Wait, I didn’t say yes.”

“But of course you did.” CEO Kim returned knowingly. “You all but screamed for someone to save you from yourself. Why else would you have gone into that airport with no intention of leaving?”   
  



	5. The Color of Otherworldly Things

EXO wore standard suits to the funeral, not the commissioned Armani pieces their manager tried to push on them. Just black ties, jackets, and slacks; like what they wore to meet the president, only...this was more important.

The ceremony was a small, private affair, with just close friends and family. No fans, or news crews, or other idols telling Baekhyun how sorry they felt while posing for Instagram. Mama Byun never shied away from her son’s spotlight--the both of them could light up a room without meaning to--but it was by Mr. Byun’s request. He wasn’t ready, and EXO could tell just by looking at him that neither was Baekhyun. The mourner armband pinned to his sleeve looked like it weighed a million tons, and his whole being sank into the floor where he knelt to the side of the altar. Mr. Byun was in the same condition, and each of the members eyed the pair wearily as they went in to pay their respects.

When the rite was over, they all went back to Baekhyun’s home in Bucheon and showered him with as much love and affection as they could. It helped that the atmosphere upon their return to South Korea had been resoundingly welcome and compassionate. Even the American and Mexican fans, whose shows had been canceled, took to Tumblr and Twitter with vigor. Every post was praise, encouragement, a promise, condolences. They got their money back, so it wasn’t a big deal, they said. And the boys were home safe, which was all that they cared about. 

With this much love and support, it was easy to forget that they were about to be fired. CEO Kim himself had called a meeting as soon as it was socially acceptable, and it was a nagging worm of a thought in the back of their minds, that even after everything: Only artist to debut at #1 on Gaon weekly album chart for 10 consecutive album releases, most Music Show Wins for a male group, most Daesang Awards for a group, bestselling artist in Korea for four years in a row, not to mention their title as Quadruple Million sellers…they were still slaves to the papers they’d signed as teenagers.

 

The next Monday morning, EXO and their manager entered the CEO office suites. It was the first time some of them had been there in years, with a few exceptions of course. Baekhyun had been summoned there before his breakup with SNSD’s Taeyeon (which some found suspicious), Xiumin after his dangerous weight loss hit the news, and Lay...really a lot of times Lay. The rest of them though admired the polished black tile, the tastefully gold decor, and the bright view the balcony behind the huge mahogany desk afforded. The man himself sat behind it until they entered. He stood gracefully and carefully buttoned the bottom button of his jacket, while his secretary ushered EXO to sit in the conference area. Traditionally, it was a circle of ten or so chairs, with a low coffee table in the middle. CEO Kim sat at the head, while EXO automatically arranged themselves from oldest to maknae. Suho sat at the right hand of the CEO, Minseok on the left and so forth down the line. The seat at the opposite end, the one beside Kyungsoo, remained empty. Even when their manager tried to take it, CEO Kim waved him off, saying he was saving it (which really should have been their first indication that something suspicious was about to happen).

 

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming.” He started off pleasantly: words of encouragement and condolences, he’d sent a flower arrangement, did they like it, and so on. His easy manner was deceptive, and any of the members who’d dealt with him in the past knew it. He had a reputation for wearing a warm mask while hiding a cold and calculating mind underneath. It didn’t seem like a fair fight to EXO, and what’s worse is that they saw it coming. They braced for impact with each word he spoke, expecting each one to be their last, until finally...touch down.

 

“And to the matter at hand...boys, you violated your contracts.” He stated their demise as casually as when he offered his commiserations. Apparently, the fact that they collectively had more than 23 individual awards, 12 nominations, and made the company more money than any of the other group, meant nothing if you cost them a single cent.

“CEO Kim, sir, with all due respect,” Suho put every ounce of politeness into his voice that he could, as he tried (for the first time in his life probably) to contradict an authority figure, “I think this is a special circumstance. Baekhyun had every right to attend his mother’s funeral and--” But he only got so far before Kim cut him off.

“The only  _ rights  _ you have are those designated to you by your contracts.” The statement was as perverse as it was accurate. Their contracts were outlined down to the last detail: what they could eat, how they would dress, what they could and couldn't stay, who they could love, who they should hate. There’s no room for opinions in a group that was tailormade. The perfect example of this was during KoKoBop with Kai’s dreads. Eries absolutely hated them and questioned why he would choose to get them again when in reality, he had no choice in the matter at all.

“We understand that we caused the company immense hardship, and we are deeply sorry for that,” Suho pushed through because...his world was crumbling. What else was he supposed to do? Let his group fall apart? At the height of their careers? “But you must see--”

“What I see,” CEO Kim made it perfectly clear that this wasn’t a discussion, it wasn't up for debate. This was  _ happening _ . It was the consequence of their actions. “Is that EXO is in need of rescue once again.” A sly smirk slid across his face that made Kyungsoo’s skin crawl. “Let’s see if we can find you a savior.”

CEO Kim gestured to the door that swung open like it had been waiting, and after a moment, the boys all heard something they never thought they would hear again: the distinct pitter patter of certain combat boots that had absolutely no reason to be in Seoul.

 

The security guard, Kunwoo, led Harper into the office by her arm. She was handcuffed and in the same exact clothes she’d worn during their rescue nearly a week ago. Kunwoo was out for blood, probably because Harper broke his brother’s jaw, and it was evident in the tight grip he had on her elbow, how even when she tried to jerk free, he held fast. And then there was the way he shoved her down into that last empty seat CEO Kim had apparently saved just for her. But what made it most obvious was her fat bloody lip that she edged her tongue against, while glaring absolute daggers at her captor.

“EXO,” CEO Kim sat back in his armchair and crossed his legs, looking like he’d just won a chess match, “I assume you all remember Ms. Hasagawa.” At her name, she turned her glare on the rest of them, although restrained, and then on the CEO, who she really let have it.

In all honesty, Kyungsoo never expected to see her again. Although, that’s what he thought the first time too. She just kept popping back up into his world at the most random moments. Especially now as she readjusted herself into the seat next to him. When she looked at him, her gaze softened, but not by much. She was still as feral as when she’d stabbed a guy to free him. Only now, she was a wild animal in chains, stalking her captor with her glare.

After letting the shock sink in for a moment, CEO waved his magic fingers again, and Kunwoo produced a black leather bound folder. It carried with it its own heady weight, the potential of a hundred different futures. It was a contract, and everyone knew it. Just like the ones EXO was about to be fired for breaking.

The air tensed as the folder opened, a pen appeared, and all of it was dumped in Harper’s lap. She eyed it but wasn’t surprised by it, and that’s when Kyungsoo realized what she’d already done.

He jumped to his feet, making everyone stop holding their breath and stare at him instead. His mind raced a thousand miles a second as he braved a step out of line.

‘Find them a savior’? This was all theater, the deal had already been made. Did she have any idea what she was signing? Or what it even said? She couldn’t speak Korean, so she sure as hell couldn’t read Hangul, yet here she was, not batting an eye. She just stared at him like he’d popped a blood vessel and she wasn’t entirely sure if he was okay or not.

“Sit down, Do Kyungsoo.” CEO Kim ordered boredly. When he didn’t immediately comply, Kunwoo gently but firmly came over and pushed his shoulders back down. When everyone was where he wanted them to be, Kim began his explanation, although hardly anyone could believe it.

“Once you sign, Ms. Harper, you will be a contracted employee of SM Entertainment, and assigned as primary security to EXO.” Ears perked at the mention of not firing the boys, and no one knew where to look after that. Were they supposed to look at Harper and beg, or at CEO Kim and wonder what the hell he was thinking? Harper, in turn, wouldn’t look up from the contract in her cuffed hands or meet Kyungsoo’s insistent face.

She couldn’t really be considering this, could she? She knew nothing of Kpop, or even his world in general. She was an American, some kind of soldier who had no business being their guard.

“Harper--” He called her name in the otherwise quiet room, and it sounded like he shouted. She finally looked up at him, really looked at him, pen poised over the dotted line.

Whatever deal she struck with Kim was not going to be worth it. It was too much, she was giving too much of herself for them, for their sakes. She would be miserable for the next decade if she signed that contract.

“I hope…” She said tightly, flexing her fingers around the pen, “I hope this makes us even.”

“Don’t!”

Kyungsoo lept for the pen as she put the tip to paper, but he didn’t get far as Chanyeol grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down into his seat.

Harper scribbled messily, and when she was past the point of no return, she shoved the folder off her lap with a look of disgust. It flopped onto the coffee table, the other loose papers floating around, as everyone sat, waiting. Right on top was her signature, only...instead of her name, it read ‘FUCK YOU’ in beautifully written calligraphy.

CEO Kim leaned forward in his seat just enough to see it before sitting back, still smug, still victorious despite the disrespect.

“It’s still legally binding.” He smirked.

“I know.” She answered darkly. It was obviously just going to be her nature to spurn all authority. Satisfied with his win, Kim waved his hand and Kunwoo came to grab Harper again. He dragged her right out of the office, and she didn’t look back.

“Where are you taking her?” Junmyeon quickly asked before Kyungsoo, who Chanyeol still had a firm grip on, made a scene.

“To her room, of course. I’m sure she has an awful lot of unpacking to do.” CEO Kim stood, fastening the bottom button of his expensive jacket again.

The chess match was over.

My whole life fits into one rucksack, and that fact was only made more depressing as the pushy guard threw me in my ‘room’ and I tripped over said sack. He cursed at me in Korean before slamming the heavy door and leaving me to regret pretty much my every life decision.

After the interrogation, Lawyer Kwik lived up to his name and had me released the next day. From there, we were joined by the security team I’d beat up and hitched a train ride home...my home.

Kwik let me call my mom on the way, but I spared her the messy details. All I needed from her was to find the bag of stuff I’d tried to bury behind the shed in the backyard. Looking back now, I should have burned the sack, but I guess deep down, maybe I knew I would  need it again.

When the team of angry Asians and I pulled up to the house, Mom was standing on the stoop, the ruck packed at her feet, wringing her hands like she was choking the life out of something. Lawyer Kwik told me to make it fast, so I wasted no time in throwing myself into her arms. Studies show that a mother’s embrace has the same effect as relaxation techniques or tranquilizers. It slows the heartbeat and makes it so we can think when things are going insane.

“Oh Harper,” She crooned as she squeezed me tight, “Where have you been? What is happening?”

“It’s okay, mom. Everything’s fine.” I muttered into her shoulder.

“Are they--” She began but I quickly shook my head.

“They’re Korean.”

“Korean? But why?” She took my shoulders and push me out to where she could look me in the eye. My mother was a smart woman, so there was no point in lying. She would figure out the truth eventually. She was more of a detective than Hemingway was.

“It’s a long story,” I admitted, reaching down to grab the sack. I hated how familiar it felt, and how my muscles suddenly remembered how to lift things. “But I promise I’ll be okay. I just have to go away for a while.”

“Where?” She asked that dreaded question, and I held back a bitter huff.

“ _ East _ .”

 

We flew first class, which was nice. Like nicer than nice. The last plane I traveled in was a bulky C-130, where I slept between relief supply crates. Now I had pretty flight attendants offering me champagne. Lawyer Kwik, who unfortunately occupied the seat next to mine, slapped my hand when I tried to take the offer.

“What? She said it was included!” I griped, crossing my arms childishly. He could at least let me get drunk if I was going to throw my life away anyway.

“This is not a vacation!” He barked, looking cautiously at the other passengers in first class to make sure they hadn’t noticed his outburst.

“What do you expect me to do for ten hours?” I clapped back.

“Sit still and be quiet.” He hissed and then, I assume because he couldn’t stand the sight of me, jammed his thumb on the button to roll up the privacy divider. It wasn’t as satisfying to stick my tongue out at the neutral brown screen, but I did it anyway. Then I waved down the attendant with the alcohol.

All in all, I think I watched three movies, slept a little, got up with the excuse to use the bathroom a thousand times, and downed possibly an entire bottle of airplane wine.

I was asleep when we landed; the loud rushing air and violent not-crash being too familiar to startle me. They were not what woke me. It was a pair of handcuffs closing around my wrist. They jolted me from a dreamless sleep into fight mode faster than gunfire or the call for the chow line. I jerked to leap from the chair, but the seatbelt nearly tore me in half. I turned furiously to see who it was I needed to murder, but Lawyer Kwik just stared at me like I was an idiot. He took no pleasure in latching the opposite cuff to his own wrist, and then groused at me, “Per our agreement with the Americans, you can’t be wandering off until you sign a contract of employment.”

“So you cuff me!?” I shrieked, making him wince.

“You are not officially our problem yet, and I won’t have you ruining it before we even get off the plane!” He pulled me by the wrist, and I followed like a dog on a leash. I dragged my feet as much as I could justify, but Kwik was being quick again. He hauled me out of the airport and straight into a waiting van, the kind you see ferrying around giant families of religious homeschoolers. He didn’t even stop for my luggage, just something about people getting it for us. 

We drove to the United States Embassy in Seoul where instead of me meeting with my own ambassador, Kwik did all the talking for me. They stuck me in a cookie cutter hotel room in the consulate where I spent the next few days like a POW. They gave me food and said it would be perfectly fine if I wanted to go on short walks around the building, but there was always a guard stationed outside my door. The only notable thing I did while in lockup was try to get ahold of an old companion I met in Japan. If she was still in the region, it would be nice to have a friendly face nearby. But I never got any confirmation.

Nearly a week after the rescue, Lawyer Kwik finally came back for me. He waltzed in with an air about him, like I was supposed to be happy to see him and not feel like they’d shelved me until I was useful. The guard Kwik brought with him was a particularly large brute who openly glared at me for no reason. He cinched the cuffs on my wrist extra tight, to the point where I was sure there would be marks once they were off, and gripped my upper arm with a vengeance. I pondered who shoved a giant stick up his ass, and then debated if he was the guy I actually  _ did  _ shove a stick into…but he wasn’t. We loaded back up into Kwik’s convoy of grandma vans and set out for what I presumed was our final destination.

Seoul is a vibrant city, with tall skyscrapers, and beautiful greenery on the banks of the river the capital was built on. The streets were crowded with people going about their day: businessmen and women in their perfectly pressed suits, regular people with bundles of shopping bags, kids in uniforms running to school.

“What even is today?” I asked out loud. Stick man didn’t even acknowledge my presence, but Lawyer Kwik in the front seat threw back ‘Monday’.

I wondered if EXO got to have their funeral, and if it was small or if it had been televised. My first impression of them had been decent, despite the circumstances. They seemed like a good group of dudes, and I doubted they would put something like that on display, even as idols.

The vans pulled off the main road into an alley that was crowded with people. Girls upon girls upon girls perked up when the vans came into sight and started to rush the street. Alarmed, I glanced out each window, wondering what was going on, but the guard grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back down. When I tried to push off his grip, he swiped his other hand across my face. Hard. I was so taken back by the suddenness of it that I didn’t have time to block or even react. I gaped at him, and then at Kwik who just turned back around, not even close to doing anything about it. With my back to the door, I was this close to booting him in the face and turning this into a close-quarters situation, but the van made it through the mob of girls, and through the gate beside a tall skinny building.

“We’re here,” Kwik said nonchalantly as we pulled into a space next to a small guard shack. The door behind me opened, and big hands dragged me out to my feet. I scowled at the guard who hit me as he came around the van to take lead, and plotted to maybe push him down the stairs or something. The screams from the girls on the street died down once they saw who was getting out. I was obviously not who they wanted. Not long after that, the shit show that was my contract signing happened, and I was thrown in another prison cell, this time, somewhere in the bowels of the SM Entertainment headquarters.

Never in a million years would he admit that he’d been sneaking down to the dorms to see her. And it  _ wasn’t  _ sneaking…he clearly had a bone to pick. If it wasn’t right then, it would be the next day or the next. But the sooner he told her, the better. If he waited too long, she might think that they  _ were  _ actually even.

He hadn’t planned on being seen though. Nor had he anticipated the company. Kyungsoo had gotten stuck with Baekhyun in the elevator, so that was unavoidable. But when they awkwardly exited on the same floor (the trainee dorm floor), Junmyeon had trotted out of the stairwell beside the elevator without a care in the world. When he saw his other members, he’d spun on his heels and tried to go back the way he came…but the door closed on him. At that point it was obvious and he accepted his defeat with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Those two, Kyungsoo understood their desire to see her. Baek probably wanted to thank her for getting him home in time for his mother’s funeral. No one could dispute the fact that they wouldn’t have gotten home without her, and there was no way she was going to lose that fight with SM and she made sure they all knew it. So that made sense. And even Suho being there could be justified: he was their hyung, their leader, and Harper had single-handedly saved EXO not once, but twice now. Junmyeon probably came down to dedicate his life to her for signing her’s away.

So yes, Kyungsoo felt he understood his hyungs’ reasoning. It was the others he didn’t expect. Minseok and Yixing contently stepped off the elevator after his and Baek’s. They’d probably mashed the button not two seconds after the door had closed the first time. Although, those two were a little more forthcoming with their approach. When they saw the three boys standing outside the elevator staring at each other awkwardly, they easily bowed in, joining the growing group and adding to Kyungsoo’s ire.

He didn’t want to yell at a girl in front of his brothers, but you do what you gotta do.

 

“I guess you’re here to see her too?” Junmyeon asked Minseok and Yixing, who nodded. “It sure would be great if we knew something about her besides her name.” He jeered at Kyungsoo. It was supposed to be jokingly, but it was really just petty.

She’d shown up too many times for it to be coincidence or a Good Samaritan, and she made it clear to everyone that she and Kyungsoo knew each other by her declaration in the conference room earlier. It was obvious that the two of them had history, but D.O. wasn’t so sure it would do him any good to tell his members the truth, especially not if she was going to stick around. The image of her kneeling on the white shale, the ocean in the background, and the crash of the sea sloshed around in his head, clashing against the thought of her stabbing someone in front of him. Her eyes were the same color as the water, and they’d never dulled, not in the six months that it had been since he first met her. But now she was back, she was here, and she’d just inserted herself in a way that was unacceptable. Instead of answering Suho’s question, Kyungsoo spun on his heels and stomped down the hall.

 

The trainee dorms were not normally very crowded, usually reserved for those who were from different parts of Korea, or different countries altogether. Regardless, it was safe to say that it wasn’t hard to find which room Harper had been assigned. All the other doors in the dorm were open, giving EXO a front row seat to trainee life again. A pair of Thai boys who had won the most recent Produce 101 were practicing their Korean in the room across from the only shut door on the hall. They glanced up at EXO and bowed casually before going back to their Hangul.

“Hey Soo, isn’t this your old room?” Minseok commented, and the irony of it slapped him right in the face. For a moment, the five of them stood in front of the door, and all eyes were on Kyungsoo’s back, expecting him to be the one to knock. But he was too busy trying to figure out what to say.

‘ _ Thank you for getting us out of LA? You’re really scary when you fight. Why did you come for me? It wasn’t like you owe me. How could you sign that contract? Are you insane? How could you think this made us even?  _ ’

Taking on the whole burden of their contract was tipping the scales too far. He’d never be able to repay her, and that upset him even more. He was going to live his whole life in this girl’s shadow, and he couldn’t decide if he was truly furious, or glad.

Junmyeon’s sigh snapped Kyungsoo back to reality as Suho stretched his arm around the frozen boy and knocked on the door, “What have you gotten us into?” He asked quietly, and Kyungsoo really didn’t know. 

It was quiet for a moment as they all listened for her response.

“Go away.” A female voice chimed in English, and whatever appreciation D.O. had felt towards her was stripped away by her rudeness. He pounded on the door the next instant, fist against wood making a scene in the hallway. “I don’t speak Korean and I don’t feel like playing charades!” She yelled from inside, and he’d had enough. He threw open the door and barged in.

It was a sparse white cinderblock room. An armoire and a sink were closest to the door, and two twin size beds were pushed up against either wall with a desk between them. Harper was perched delicately on the table, leaning up against the window that only opened a crack. She was hugging her knees and pressing her face against the glass like outside was the only source of oxygen. Rain tinked against the window and she looked like she wished it was on her face, washing away whatever mistakes she’d made. She was wearing those same dark jeans she’d burst down the door in, but her shirt was gone and she sat only in a sports bra.

All the rage in Kyungsoo’s head rushed to his cheeks when he saw her stomach and cleavage. Not just that, he saw the unnatural color of a tattoo snake up her back and over her left shoulder. It looked like the painted branch of a cherry blossom tree, with pink petals growing every few centimeters of skin. Poking out from under the line of her bra looked like the bottom of a letter or character, but he couldn’t see it clearly, nor did he want to.

She hadn’t jumped when the door flew open or sprang up to cover herself. It was like she couldn’t care less that he saw, and the slow way she regarded them made him self-conscious.

She turned her head sluggishly to take in the intruders, blinking heavily. Her eyes were dry (not that he’s anticipated coming in here to watch her sob), but her expression was grave as if she was finally regretting it. 

_ As well she should _ , Kyungsoo thought. What an idiotic thing she’d done. Maybe the realization was just now hitting her. Maybe now she was seeing her error for what it was:  _ permanent. _ Thirteen years! She’d scribbled her name on a document she couldn't read and willingly thrown herself into servitude for  _ thirteen years _ …for him. To be even. It was enough to make him panic.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He snapped back to himself, figuring he might as well do what he came here to do.

“Plenty.” She mumbled and turned back to the window. Her dismissal was even more insulting than her like of decorum.

“Do you even know what you’ve done?” He demanded, trying way too hard to get a reaction out of her.

“Pretty sure I saved your career.” She shrugged, her breath fogging on the window pane.

“You just threw your life away!” He yelled, “For nothing!” She turned back to him then. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she took him in: his clenched fists, his eyes that were too insistent, his friends who were probably standing behind him awkwardly. He wasn’t going to be able to make her see if his stance was so weak, but still…he came to yell.

“You seem far more upset about that than I figured you would.” She said, finally giving him her full attention. It felt like an audition, and he wasn’t about to mess it up.

“He would never have fired us.” Kyungsoo listed, “We’re his biggest money makers. Punish us maybe, but he wouldn’t have fired us. You did a useless thing.”

“Okay, but are we even, though?” She asked quietly, the storm brewing in the night sky behind her nearly drowning her out. Lightning flashed, illuminating her purple; the color of otherworldly things. At that moment she looked more like the battle angel that saved them than the girl who--

“No.” He answered when the flash was gone and reality set back in. Her eyes ticked up to his face from where they’d been staring at his hands. Why was she looking at his hands?

“What more could you want?” Her voice seemed surprised, but he felt like he had no time for this game. How could she not realize that she’d tilted the scale too far in her favor for him to ever repay?

“Go back to Kim in the morning and break the contract.”

“Soo…” Junmyeon threw his disapproval into the ring while at the same time reminding Kyungsoo that they had an audience.

“There’s a 24-hour recant clause. If you go there first thing in the morning--” He tried to explain, ignoring Suho’s warning face, but--

“There is?” Yixing interjected, and the conversation derailed from there. Kyungsoo failed to contain his facepalm as his members, people he called brothers, discussed the finer points of their own personal contracts while simultaneously devolving into butt jokes. It was all going horrifically wrong until a new sound joined, and then overtook their bickering:

_ Laughter. _

She was laughing at them. “You look like a flock of birds!” She hollered, big ugly belly laughs, nearly knocking her off her perch on the table. The other boys stopped complaining long enough to stare at her, open-mouthed. It wasn’t every day they were laughed at. Pointed at, loved on, cheered for, but never laughed at. “Like chickens! Or pigeons! Peck peck pecking at each other!” It was then that Kyungsoo remembered that she couldn’t speak Korean, and while he’d spoken with her in English, Suho had been translating for the boys. In the midst of the discussion, however, they’d almost reverted to their dialects like they were in the cafeteria fighting over the last bowl of black bean noodles. To her, they probably  _ did  _ look like a little pack of blabbering fools.

“You asked to be even.” Kyungsoo tried his best to bring everything back into focus. “That will make us even.” She came down from her laugh slowly, wiping fake tears from her eyes.

“How will going back on my promise to protect you make us square?” She asked the question casually, but there was an edge to her voice, a threat somewhere that he couldn’t quite see or comprehend yet.

So he matched it.

“Because you don’t belong here.”

“Do Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun cried and grabbed his arm. He was suddenly swallowed by the group of boys and herded towards the door, apparently not allowed to say another word on the subject. Of course, it didn’t matter that she had no manners to speak of, but heaven forbid he not use his! “I’m so sorry!” Baekhyun bowed to Harper while Suho translated. “Please don’t listen to him, he’s just under a lot of stress!”

“I mean...he’s not wrong.” Harper bit her lip like she was trying to hide a smile, which made Kyungsoo even more…whatever he was feeling at the moment. Was he still mad, or was he just annoyed? Annoyed that she didn’t listen to him, or annoyed that it felt like she was doing this to spite him?

“We are eternally grateful for what you did for us in LA. Especially me, because...you got me home in time to say goodbye,” Baekhyun spoke very carefully, barely able to talk about his mother’s death. Suho kept giving him sidelong glances as he translated, and Harper had enough sense to see his discomfort. “And so...and so...” Baekhyun fiddled with his hands before taking one brave step forward to stress his point, “you should do what Kyungja said: break the contract and be able to go home.”

 

Kyungsoo couldn’t help but roll his eyes, that of all the important moments, Baekhyun was using the nickname he’d given him when they were trainees.

Harper took a long moment to respond, giving each of them a hard look as she did on the bus in LA. Kyungsoo wanted to know what she was thinking, if Baekhyun’s sincere argument was going to get through to her, but she took a deep breath and sighed.

“You guys remind me a lot of the men I used to lead: dumb and pretty...but strong and kind.” She added. “I haven’t formally introduced myself to you, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I never go back on my word.” She swung her legs over the side of the table and stood before them. “So Gentlemen, like it or not, my name is Harper Hasagawa, and I’m going to be your bodyguard for the next thirteen blissful years.”   
  



	6. Stage Name

As expected, there was a knock on my door the next morning at a brisk 0545. Lucky for me (them), I hadn’t slept. If I was going to acclimate quick enough to be effective, I had to use the dirty time zone trick: stay awake for as long as possible and only go to sleep when everyone else did. Unfortunately, my training made it so I could stay alert for longer periods of time than normal...even while staring at the blank walls of my new room. It was shaped and designed pretty much the same as any standard copy bunk: two beds, two wardrobes, one desk, a communal bathroom at the end of the hall, and a cafeteria on the main floor of the building. It seemed just like the life I’d left behind, complete with the early morning clandestine meetings.

I quickly got up to answer the door, expecting foul-tempered Kyungsoo but was surprised with Cheekbones. His actual name started with an S? Or a J? I don’t know. He stood in workout clothes and a fresh coat of sweat that somehow made him sparkle. He flashed me a charming smile and gave a small bow before hitting me with a--

“Good morning, Ms. Hasagawa. Did you sleep well?” in perfect English.

“Uhh...yes.” I lied, holding the door open for him to enter. He didn’t.

“I wanted to meet you without the other members. As you can probably tell, they get distracted easily.” His smile seemed genuine to me, but I knew that I wasn’t used to his caliber of faking. And when he didn’t take my invitation, I moved back to the doorway, unsure of what to do or say.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“I’d like to know how you know Kyungsoo.” His question was direct, but not loaded. I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation so soon, or so early in the morning, so I just crossed my arms and said,

“Kyungsoo and I met a few months ago through a mutual friend.”

“The same friend who told you where to find us in LA?” He asked.

“The same.” The mention of Kojima reminded me that I should probably call him. There’d been no contact since the night of the rescue, and he was no doubt worried about me.

“How does Kyungsoo know him?” Cheekbones continued.

“You’d have to ask him.” I shrugged. Maybe I should start calling him Hemingway because this was feeling suspiciously like an interrogation.

“How did  _ you  _ meet this mutual friend?” He took the question in a different direction, trying to get some perspective, just needing a foothold, but I wasn’t about to give him one.

“I beat him up.”

“I’m sorry?” He did a double take at my answer, apparently not yet used to the fact that I’d beaten a lot of people up in my lifetime.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I said mockingly, and then snickered to myself. I was really too sarcastic for this. “What is it that you actually want?” I asked next, figuring I should reign myself in if only a little bit. He was still standing at my door looking like a workout model, and I was still too derisive for not having had breakfast yet.

“The members of my group are, as you said, strong and kind, but they are not as dumb as you think. They act innocent because it is asked of them. They know exactly what kind of deal they entered into when they signed their contracts. You, however, do not.” He listed out the argument I expected.

“I read the bullet points.” I defended.

“It was in Korean.” He looked at me like a mom who was tired of the bullshit their kid was spouting. The same look I caught glimpses of in LA when the boys would all turn to him. He was their leader, I guess.

“So I read the squiggles, what’s your point?” I brushed off his judgment. Tired of standing at the door, I left it open for him to follow and went back inside.

“This could ruin your life.” He quoted from last night, and reluctantly tailed me. “What could Kyungsoo have possibly done for you that you’d risk everything just to be even?” I sat at my desk, realized there was nothing on it, nothing to busy my hands with, and stood up again.

“I can’t tell you.” I couldn’t look at him when I said it. I hadn’t had this conversation with myself yet, so I wasn’t really sure how to proceed.

“You can’t?” He raised a brow, and I adjusted.

_ “I won’t.” _

“In that case, it’s in your best interest to make use of that clause? Go home.” He ordered and headed back for the door. He seemed so uncomfortable in this room with me, but I remembered how my men used to say I was a ‘loose American’. My normal and his normal were obviously not the same. Same goes for the bra tactic I used last night, which was dirty but effective.

“Lucky for me, I don’t do anything in my best interest.” I scoffed, following him back to the door. “You’re stuck with me...whatever your name is, whether you or Kyungsoo like it or not.” I put the foot down, and he turned back to me disapprovingly. “Besides...” I added if only to make him stop staring at me like my mother did, “Bacon really likes me.”

“His name is  _ Baekhyun _ , and I’m Junmyeon. You can also call me Suho.” He sighed heavily, like he knew this was coming but was really hoping he could prevent it.

“Why?” I asked, wondering why he was giving me a whole directory of names.

“Because it’s my stage name.”

“Why do you have a stage name?”

“Why don’t you know anything about the career you just signed up for?” He snapped, and I nodded, impressed.

“Touché. Is this the part where you say I’ll never make it in this world?” I floundered dramatically, figuring that’s where this telenovela was headed.

“This is the part where I tell you to meet your dorm mates.” He surprised me with his answer, and I looked out at the other doors in the hall he gestured to. “You’re in the trainee dorm. If you give them food, they’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

“That’s…actually pretty helpful. Thanks…” I muttered, crossing my arms defensively. Now I was the uncomfortable one. He wasn’t an easy trick to read to begin with, so I had no idea what I was going to do if he started flip-flopping on me.

“And learn Korean,” He added, raking his fingers through his infuriatingly perfect hair, “...or it’s going to be a long thirteen years.”

I mean, I get it. It wasn’t lost on me how odd or confusing this whole situation was for the both of us. I was a stranger in a foreign land, shoved into a role I wasn’t meant to fill. I didn’t know anything about them, and they didn’t know anything about me.

But the thing was, they thought they were saving me by telling me to go home. They thought I was ruining my life when in all honesty, I’d done that months ago. There was nothing left for me to lose. That’s why I wouldn’t listen to them. That’s why every time they said to go, I planted my feet. There was nothing left for me in the US, or Japan, or anywhere. I was washed up in a rut I didn’t know how to get out of. What was the harm in making some money while I was at it?

“You’re not so bad after all.” I offered an olive branch and leaned against the door frame.

“The judge is still out on you, Ms. Hasagawa.” Cheekbones muttered.

“It’s the jury.” I corrected.

“What?” His eyebrows pinched together dramatically, and I deep sighed.

“The jury is still out. Nevermind. Just call me Harper.” Long live American colloquialisms.

“Fine, then let’s go.” He said suddenly and started off down the hall.

“Go? Go where?” I asked, looking back and forth between him leaving and my open door. Did it lock? Was I supposed to have a key?

“Hurry up!” He called, almost to the elevator.

“But—but Su...ugh.” I groaned. Whatever, it wasn’t like I had that much to steal anyway. I quickly hoofed it down the hall to where Cheekbones was waiting. He took one look at my face, then down at my feet, and barked,

“Shoes! Where are your shoes?” Insert mumble in Korean, probably about my incompetency or something. He waved me off like he was shooing a chicken, and I groaned the whole way back.

 

“What can you do besides fight?” Cheekbones asked once we were in the elevator and heading…who knows where.

“Do you want me to sing and dance too?” I joked, but he only shot me an annoyed look. He was hard to get a read on. If I had to name it, I’d say he was a little like a Lance Corporal I used to know when I was a First Class Private. Only one rank above me, yet he acted like I was going to catch the world on fire. He was never mean or rude just…perpetually worried. That’s the expression Cheekbones kept giving me.

“I need to know your qualifications.” He quickly exited the elevator once we’d hit the ground floor. The trainee dorms were in the walkout basement. Like it wasn’t a dungeon enough already. “CEO Kim hired you personally, so your employee file is going to be nonexistent.” I followed him down a wide hallway lined with offices and miscellaneous doors.

“Who cares?” I asked, not understanding how that was an issue, “I can protect you just the same.”

“I don’t particularly, but your boss will.” He said from in front of me, and I came to a dead stop.

“Wait, boss?” I hiccupped, “Aren’t you my boss?”

“No, of course not.” He jeered, only slowing down a fraction to wait for me to follow again, “SM is broken down into two main employee categories: idols and staff. Idols are obviously sorted by group and then by line. Staff is sorted by occupation: management, stylists, security, so on. You’ve been assigned to EXO, but you don’t answer to us.”

“Then who do I answer to?” I demanded, not at all enjoying this tidbit of surprise.

“SM Head of Security, Chief Laon Soo.”

We continued down the hall in stunned silence, while I regretted, and beat myself up, and whined, and essentially threw a fit. The whole night that I laid awake, I didn’t sort out any of my necessary thoughts. What was I going to do about my history with Kyungsoo? Was I going to tell them? Was I prepared to tell them…What was I going to do about my affiliations with the military? Why was CEO Kim so shady? Why did I think I wouldn’t have a boss? They were all relevant questions which my dumb ass didn’t think to ponder on.

The only thing I thought of last night was how the air smelled different here than at home. How I smelled a different ocean, one that only showed up in my dreams. I was closer to people I’d once loved than I had been in over half a year, but I found no solace in that. And I stayed awake missing them. Missing them until I cried into my pillow and hoped through the thin walls of my room that it wouldn’t wake my new dorm mates.

Finally, Cheekbones halted in front of a nondescript door on the left. There was only a plaque to the side that I assume listed the Chief’s name in Hangul.

“You couldn’t have at least let me brush my teeth before bringing me to meet my new CO?” I muttered, looking down at my work out shorts and standard issue tee.

“Your what?” He asked as he stepped forward to knock.

“God this is going to be a long deployment.” I moaned, but Cheekbones paused his fist an inch above the wood.

“Three floors up and you could go home. There’s still time.” He shot me a sly look. I was tired of it. Tired of their constant brush-offs, so I jammed a fist on my hip and let him have a piece of my mind.

“It seems to me, Sumyeon—”

“It’s Junmyeon.” He interjected.

“Whatever—” I tried but he added,

“Or Suho.”

My snark turned into a glare, and he shrank just enough for me to continue my bit in peace. “It seems like you need me, so why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?” He shrugged, knowing it was an understandable question.

“Without a script, Kyungsoo isn’t very elegantly spoken, but he’s almost always right. You don’t belong here.”

“Why? Because I’m an American?” I fired off.

“No, simply because he said so.”

There was a time once when I had that much faith in the people around me. When I trusted their judgment above all else because they proved to me it was competent. I vowed I would never make that mistake again, but looking at Cheekbones, I remembered how nice it felt. How secure, if misguided. There’s no I in Team and all that jazz.

When I had no come back for it, he continued lightly, almost as if he knew he may have struck a chord. “You won’t tell me how you know him, and he refuses to speak to me about it. I don’t appreciate people who come into our world and immediately make us lie.”

“You need a reality check, Junho,” I grumbled, massaging the headache that was forming behind my eyes.

“It’s  _ Junmyeon  _ or  _ Suho _ !” He said crossly, letting his frustration show, and I took full advantage of it.

“You can’t even pick a name, you’re already lying, so don’t blame it on me!” I barked. “As for Kyungsoo,” I relented, figuring there would be no living with them if I didn’t give them something, “we met six months ago on Okinawa for a grand total of sixty minutes. We’re not friends or even acquaintances. I didn’t even know he was famous until Kojima called me and told me to save him.” He absorbed my every word, and I watched as the gaps in his head started to fill at least a little bit.

“Okinawa...” He murmured, furrowing his brow at me, “I remember that trip. He went with his parents.”

I didn’t want to be caught up in his reminiscing, especially if he was smarter than he looked, so I just sneered and said, “News to me.”

“The managers were furious with him because he lost his phone.” At that, I faltered. That damn phone. I could still hear it ringing as it went sailing into the sea.

“...s-sucks to be him.” I heard the hesitation in my own voice, knowing full well that Cheekbones was going to register it and store it away until he had more info. He seemed like the type who got to the bottom of things no matter what, and I would sure hate to have to kill him for it.

_ Kidding _ .

“And Kojima.” He continued.

“What about him?” I asked, already knowing that they knew each other. Kojima had made that obvious during the mission.

“He was one of Soo’s old classmates. We’ve met him, he’s a decent guy.”

“Jesus, Kojima Hinata.” I groaned, finally getting the full extent of what he’d dragged me into. School mates! Really!

“He’s in the Japanese military if I remember correctly.” Cheekbones said slowly, “How exactly did you beat him up?”

“Because...” I faltered again because I hadn’t thought of what to say. I was a soldier, which was obvious. But my past…it was so tangled up with things I didn’t want them, or anyone, to know. “Because I’m—”

Suddenly, the door we were standing by swung open, and a man who I assumed was Chief Soo gazed at us boredly.

“Are you two done yet?” His English was heavily accented, but the sass was absolutely there.

Suho transformed before my eyes, cementing my theory that his whole self was a lie, as he smiled his charmer and started in on something in Korean. They discussed for a moment while I tried to make it seem like I knew what was going on. Chief Soo was an average sized guy and he wore his expensive looking suit well, but he had the face of a snotty teenager, turned up in a possibly permanent sneer. His eyes were beady and they glanced to me every so often as I’m sure Suho explained who I was. I shifted from foot to foot, annoyed that I was meeting him in my pj’s; that I was meeting him at a brisk 0600; that I was meeting him at all. If Junmyeon was right about anything, it was that I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into.

After a moment of dialogue, Chief Soo gave a heavy sigh before jerking his head towards his office, apparently code for us to follow. Junmyeon shot me a look of what I thought was pity before guiding me in.

The office was small but had room enough for a desk and guest chairs. Suho and I sat across as Chief Soo plopped himself down behind his computer. He didn’t speak for a long moment, holding my gaze hostage as I sat stiffly in the chair. It felt like a job interview from hell. The worst part was, I already had the job. When he finally spoke, it only solidified my theory.

“I was not consulted in regards to your hire, therefore I do not consider you a part of my team.” He said through his teeth no less.

“Fan-fucking-tastic...” I muttered under my breath, preparing myself for a battle.

“You were assigned to EXO by CEO Kim, and while I cannot supersede his order, I can refuse to put you on the schedule.

“Chief Soo--” Junmyeon started apologetically but was cut off like he hadn’t spoken at all.

“You’ll be placed in the carpool rotation until such a time that I can arrange for your termination.” My jaw would have dropped had I not been expecting a worse duty. But I kept my cool, even as he turned his attention from us to his work like the matter was settled and I was just supposed to take it.

“I signed a contract.” I responded firmly. “You can’t fire me without cause.” This being the one and only time, I’m sure, that I would bring the stupid paper up as a defense instead of a detriment.

“My cause will come soon enough.” He snapped, and I must have touched a nerve because he stood from his desk and leered towards me. He braced on the top like some sort of warlord, and I was land he was determined to conquer. “Americans are all the same: stubborn, stupid, and quick to quit. You’ll give up and then you’ll be gone.” My jaw really did drop that time, and before I could suppress it, a laugh escaped. A laugh of disbelief, and a laugh of defiance. Because he was right. Sweet baby Jesus, he had no idea how right he was.

_ Stubborn. _

“Laon, you’re making threats against a contracted employee. I have to report this.” Suho interjected, but Chief Soo looked at him like he was a troublesome little boy. I wondered if that’s what he thought of all of these glitter-covered idols.

“Report it to whom?” Chief Soo asked, and Suho hesitated to answer. That was the power of the security officer though. If they’re the one causing the trouble, who are you supposed to tattle to?

“It’s fine Junmyeon.” I reached over and patted his knee lightly. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion but were quickly replaced with horror when I stood and leaned over the desk myself, meeting my new adversary in the middle.

“He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

 

Suho and I were dismissed…more like thrown out of the office with a slam, and I was giddy about it. I kept giving him excited grins as he escorted me back to the elevator. Grins that he shied away from. I don’t know why, but the prospect of playing the pig-headed American seemed so entertaining. Enough to make at least a small part of it worth it. Suho must have picked up on that because I think I saw the beginnings of a wrinkle solely dedicated to me forming between his eyes. He left me at the doors with a clipped farewell, not bothering to try and convince me any further. The deed had already been done, and he knew it. I went back to my room with a devilish gleam in my eye and prepared to kick some ass.

 

Day one of my employment, however, was a bit...of a letdown.

Chief Soo definitely threw me in the deep end, expecting me to drown. What he didn’t know was that I was a pro at sink or swim. I used to play it for fun. But...as I stood in the parking lot outside of SM, staring at that guard shack that was to be my FOB, the thrill of the game diminished. It was small and grey, just big enough to hide from the rain, and little else. Earlier, there had been a man, apparently a coworker, who was discussing with the drivers who came and went. He tinkered with a tablet that I assume held the database of cars, and I grimaced as he let vans park wherever, complained when they came back empty or dirty, and shrugged off the people who showed up with no notice.

It was a logistical mess.

He took a smoke break a little while ago, leaving the tablet in the shack to charge. After button mashing for a bit, I managed to figure out how to switch the language to English and sort out how the system worked. When the man came back, we played charades. He yelled when I wouldn’t return the device, but I whipped out my phone and dictated a phrase into google translate. He seemed fine once I told him I was taking over by order of Chief Soo, even waving as he skipped off. Now it was just a matter of finding out how to make this parking lot functional.

 

Thank god it wasn’t a busy day, or I might have hurt someone. Firstly, I took stock of all the spare keys in the tiny guard shack and figured out which vans they belonged to. One thing that a soldier can’t live without is duct tape, and I used small strips to label each one. What probably took the longest was moving all the cars to the front of the lot, and re-parking them orderly in the back. While I worked, I listened to Fall Out Boy and absently thought up a million different ways to humiliate Chief Soo. The pastime was so effective, that I played Jenga with cars until lunch. I wasn’t really sure how long a shift was supposed to last, but I figured I could be quick as I ventured out to forage for food. 

Surprisingly enough, CEO Kim had kept his promise to me and advanced my first paycheck to cover the outstanding balance on my mother’s mortgage. When I finally got around to calling her, she made no mention of it, but I could hear the relief in her voice. I didn’t tell her I was the cause or that SM had blackmailed me to do it, but just knowing her heart was lighter helped me cope. That, and 7-11. There is absolutely nothing better than the sight of a 7-11 sign on the block when you can’t read a single other thing in the whole city. I practically ran through the doors and spent far too long perusing the snack aisle. With the money I had left, I bought myself provisions, but also kept in mind what Cheekbones--I mean Suho, had said. I bought a giant bag for myself, and then an extra ramen bowl to bait my dorm mates with.

The rest of my shift was spent searching for useful items around the main building: a hose, a bucket, spare paper, a gas can. Things that I figured anyone would have, I found difficult to track down at SM. Were they too good to wash their own cars? Were they so eco-friendly that I couldn’t find a ream? The can…eh, that was a long shot. But in the end, I called it a night when the sun started to set. It wasn’t really tiresome work, but my brain was either fried or numb, I couldn’t decide. Still, I had things to accomplish, however, so when I got back to my room, I grabbed my offering and went in search of an informant.

I picked the door across from mine first. A boy answered dark hair dark eyes and looked at me blankly.

“Uh...um, hi. Do you speak English?” I asked with a pained smile. He quickly shook his head and started to close the door. “Oh, okay...bye.” I muttered as the door shut in my face, and I caved to the overwhelming pitifulness. The next door I tried was on the left, and a girl answered with the same result. The door across from hers didn’t answer, but I half bet they were there, they just didn’t want to talk to the American banging on doors. I was getting more frustrated with each snub until finally, I thumped on the door a few down from me, declaring it would be my last. I could learn everything I needed to know from YouTube and it wouldn't be this humiliating!

The girl who answered this time was short with a round face, and bright dark honey eyes. Her hair was braided in pigtails, and I spied purple streaks in her twists. Fervently, I shoved the plastic bag of ramen at her and grumbled,

“Do you speak English?” When she didn’t immediately answer, I pulled the cup back and mumbled something like, ‘of course not’. But as I turned to leave, the sack snagged. I looked back to see she’d grabbed it, doe eyes staring at it desperately. Annoyed, I tried to pull away again, but she squeaked, voice as high as a mouse.

“Do I get the noodles if I speak English?”

Dumbstruck, I fumbled over my answer. “Uhh...yeah.” I released the bag and she zipped back into the room, stopping just long enough to hold the door open for me.

Her room looked like it used to look like mine, but she had more of a life to move in. Posters were tacked on the walls depicting bands I didn’t know, tea lights were strung overhead and laced into a purple mesh canopy that hung over the bed. Makeup and hair products were strewn over the second, unused bed, and the armoire was bursting with a crazy amount of clothes. I took it all in as the girl pulled a kettle and plate from under her bed.

“You eating too?” She gestured to the other cups in the bag, going under the other bed to pull out a low folding table. She compiled her assembly line, and before I knew it, the ramen was steeping and we were sitting at the table staring at each other.

“So…” I mumbled, “I’m Harper.”

“I’m Tala, but you can call me  _ Gabi  _ .” She said equally shy.

“Why?” Although I knew the answer.

“It’s my stage name.”

“Do all Kpop people have stage names?” I asked, wondering if Bacon or Kyungsoo actually had different names too. Tala snorted, breaking her chopsticks apart.

“No.”

“Why do you?” I pressed, wanting to get to the bottom of this name thing.

“My manager say it helps ‘ _ set me apart  _ ’.” She shrugged, making bunny quotes around the explanation. She then pulled off the lid of her ramen cup, a big billow of steam hazing out the lights.

“So you’re an idol than?” I assumed, but she shook her head.

“No, I’m a trainee.” She expertly dug in with her sticks, pulling out a giant glob of noodles and shoving the whole thing in her mouth. There was no way she didn’t see the confusion on my face, but it didn’t stop her. Maybe it was a thing? To shove as much in as possible? I quickly tucked that away, kicking myself for not buying some sort of tour guide book while I was out.  

“How do you become an idol?” I came back, picking at my own soup.

“You have to debut. Duh…” She gave me a dumb look, and in the back of my mind, I threw something at Suho for calling the fact that I was out of my league.

“I don’t know how any of this works. I was hoping maybe you could give me a crash course.” I confessed.

“Give you a crash?” She asked, tilting her head like a pretty little bird...with its mouth full.

“ _ Teach me  _ .” I clarified. I was really going to have to watch what I say from now on.

“What can I teach you? I am just trainee.” She avoided, burying her gaze in her ramen.

“Well, first off, you could tell me what it means to be a trainee, how that’s different from being an idol.” I offered because that was exactly what I wanted to know at the moment. She eyed me skeptically, but after another bite of noodles, asked,

“If I help you, will you give me more ramyun?”

I let out a surprised laugh, amazed that food really was the key like Cheekbones had said.

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “sure.” She put down her chopsticks long enough to shake on it.

 

I learned a lot more over the next few weeks about Kpop than I ever thought I would in my lifetime. Entertainment companies in Korea were not like the record labels back home. These agencies controlled every aspect of their brand, including who they chose to train, what image they would portray, when they would begin their career, what type of music they would produce, everything.

Idols start their journeys off as ‘trainees’, having signed a contract with their company, but not ready to ‘debut’, meaning: start performing and stuff. They work daily with the choreographers, vocal coaches, linguists, and managers employed by their company until it’s decided that they are prepared. These baby idols live where I live, in the trainee dorm, either thriving or not in this highly competitive world. And when I say highly competitive, I mean  _ highly competitive. _ Hell week in boot camp was bad, but at least I didn’t have to sing in perfect pitch while someone bounced a basketball on my stomach.

Tala also taught me that entertainment agencies trade trainees like Pokémon cards, and that’s how she ended up at SM.

“But if SM traded for you...why haven’t you debuted?” I asked one night, laying upside down, feet propped up on her wall. They hurt, especially since I still refused to wear my boots. Tala was laying on her bed, blank sheet music and a pencil taunting her. She’d thrown at least a dozen paper balls at my head already.

“They did not trade for me, I was just in batch they got. Besides, I knew it was long shot when I moved here.” She brushed off my questions like she had grown custom to. She was dramatic and colorful, kind of what I assumed any celebrity would be like if I got to know any. But there was still a youth about her, a shade of naivety she tried very hard to hide. Because of course, there was no room for it in this world. Whenever she’d grown tired of answering my endless questions, she would roll her eyes and tell me to go pester someone else...but I never did.

“You’re not from Seoul?” I tilted my head back to gaze at her upside down. Her response was sharp, and the intensity surprised me.

“I’m not from Korea.” The way she said it wasn’t so much in disgust as it was...discomfort. Like she had to make the distinction. “You’re not?” I rolled over on my stomach, giving her my full attention. To me, it didn’t seem like the topic warranted such a reaction, but who was I to know the difference?

She threw another paper ball at me, and I saw her mouth, ‘typical white person’.

“Where are you from then?” I asked. Apparently, I’d stepped on a nerve without meaning to. If I was being considerate, perhaps it was a bit stupid of me to assume she was Korean, but I just...geez, there’s no way to finish that sentence without sounding like an ass, is there?

“Caloocan.” She said, and then waited for me to respond. After a painful moment, she understood that I didn’t know where that was, and she clarified with a sigh. “The  _ Philippines _ .”

“Oh…” I remarked. I knew next to nothing about the islands, other than that I liked Halo Halo, but I didn’t know how to tell her that without sounding like an even bigger dick than I already was. “Why did you think moving here would be a long shot?” I asked instead. I’d heard Tala sing; in the shower, in the hallways, through the paper thin walls of our dorm. She was really good, and I understood why someone would scout her. What I didn’t understand was why they wouldn’t debut her.

“Because I’m from the Philippines.” She repeated, but this time the words took on extra weight. I recognized it slowly, having been out of touch for so long, even memories need time to crystallize. It was the same burden carried by those on Okinawa because they weren’t Japanese, but no one would acknowledge the difference.

“Is that a thing?” I asked delicately, careful to mirror her tone.

“Yes…it is a  _ thing _ ,” was all she said before she went back to ‘not’ writing her music, and my imaginary quota of questions for the day had been met.


	7. The Thirteen Year Long War

Then, of course, there were the boys. EXO came down to the lot nearly every day and Bacon made it a point to give me a high five. He always made the effort to speak to me, whether we were passing in the hall, the elevator, or when they were coming to pick up a van. It was sweet, even though I knew ‘hello’ was probably the extent of his English. And here I was, having downloaded three language apps, forced Tala to implement a Korean word of the day, and nearly drowned myself in Kpop...and the only word I knew was  _ ‘yeoboseyo’ _ . We were two peas in a pod, Bacon and I.

 

June came and went in a whirl of glitter, parking passes, and being constantly yelled at in Korean. By July 1st, I was ready to pull my hair out, but the look of smug victory I imagined on Chief Soo’s face kept me motivated. He wasn’t going to win, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to lose. I counted our interactions as battles in a thirteen-year-long war: the spark set off in his office where I took the lead, but he pushed back swiftly with carpool duty. So far, we were 1-1 and stalled, until July 4th when I couldn’t contain my desire for tacos any longer.

Ladies and Gentlemen, did you know that the largest US military base outside of the United States is located 60 miles south of Seoul? Camp Humphreys is an army base, sprawling 1,200 acres, and only has plans to grow in the future. Men I served with in Japan would boast about the accommodations, how nice they were, how new. I would swiftly drop kick them over hacksaw ridge because that’s beside the point. 

On this Independence Day, when I’d sold my soul to Seoul and all I wanted was a little taste of home, I sucked it up. I didn't want to go to Humphreys, but I knew very little about the installations in the area and frankly...no one would look at me twice on a base that size. So I caught a bus south from Seoul and dozed against the window. I wasn't the only one on the bus going to the camp so it was easy to go unnoticed in a line on new recruits. Thankfully, no one bothered to ask where my luggage was for someone fresh from America, and they glossed right over my rank. The unintentional disrespect pricked at the back of my neck, but I said nothing. I outranked everyone here, or at least...I used to. Your status follows you even into retirement, but what would be the benefit of making a spectacle of myself here? I'd announce, be saluted, go about my day, and then someone would inevitably ask where I'd been, why I didn't reelist like I said I would, why the legendary  _ 'Baroness'  _ was groveling for scraps in Korea, and those were questions I was nowhere near able to answer without resorting to violence first. So I stayed quiet and allowed the guardsmen to lead the group of privates in. 

The commissary was brand new, which was nice, and it came fully equipped with the military comfort basics: Burger King, Popeyes, Starbucks, and Pizza Hut. Not to mention the fancy schmancy BX, where Samsung was doing well for business. I swear they sold bigger TVs here than back home. But the auxiliaries were hosting a special cookout for the holiday, and that's what I came for. I doubt anyone got off work, but they got hot dogs, so where was the issue? 

Thankfully, as I slipped into the serving line, I was correct about being anonymous. The biggest base in the world was used to constantly new faces, and the ladies who ladled my plate full of potato salad and baked beans smiled at me warmly. 'Thank you for your service' they said, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I claimed a small table with only one chair so no one friendly could try and join me, and chowed down to my heart's content. It's true that fast food can kill you, but I don't think anything could give you a sweeter death. I probably looked feral, shoveling the food into my face, but when you live off of ramen for a month, you get a manners pass. I couldn't order in Korean, so how was I supposed to go to a restaurant? It wasn't like anyone was itching to take me out to eat. Moody Kyungsoo barely looked at me, even when Bacon dragged them over, Chief Soo was busy trying to fire me, and CEO Kim wasn't exactly the 'take-you-out-for-Korean-BBQ' type of man. I supposed I could have asked Tala, but I bothered her enough as it was. 

I was just starting to feel comfortable again when my phone rang. With a groan, I licked hot sauce off my fingers and answered without looking. 

“Ms. Hasagawa.” The falsely chipper voice of CEO Kim made me shudder. 

“Yes, sir?” I replied, not even trying to pretend I knew how to say that in Korean. 

“After looking at the numbers, I would like to congratulate you on your success in our Vehicle Organization Unit.” 

“You mean the parking lot?” I snorted. 

“You have turned it into one of our most productive areas.” 

“Well look at me…” It was like, no matter what I meant to say, sarcasm just fell out of my mouth. 

“Your performance has been noted by your supervisor as well.” He added, and I paused at that. 

“You mean Chief Soo?” 

“I do.” 

“I highly doubt he has anything nice to say on my behalf,” I grumbled, annoyed that I’d gone a solid fifteen minutes without thinking about my terrible boss only for him to be brought back up again. 

“Luckily I have him right here.” There was the district sound of the phone being switched to speaker, and I could feel the uncomfortable silence between an employee who didn’t want to say something and a boss who was making him. 

“Hasagawa.” He pretty much barked, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear for a second. 

“What?” I grunted, eyeing my burger that was getting colder by the minute. 

“Tell her about the trip, Laon.” I heard CEO Kim in the background dictating. 

“As you know, SM encouraged unity and happiness in its employees, and strives to make the workplace a desirable and productive place to work.” 

“Ahuh?” I slurred. 

“And every year, SM encourages its employees to attend their yearly team building retreat, this year held on Jeju island.” 

“Ahuh?” 

“And this year, your presence is requested.” His words were clipped short. 

“Ahuh…” 

“What else do you have to tell her, Laon?” CEO Kim asked, and I knew exactly what kind of face he was making behind Chief Soo’s back. 

“And…you’re being promoted.” I heard the sound of a whiny child in his voice, and I could have laughed. 

“Ahuh,” I said instead. 

“Will you stop your idiotic gawking and speak!” Chief Soo snapped. 

“Laon…” CEO Kim warned pleasantly. I could get used to having him around if he was able to keep Chief Soo on a leash like this. After the sound of an angry throat being cleared, Chief Soo gave me my second victory. 

“Harper Hasagawa, you are now assigned to the security detail of EXO. You will attend the retreat with them, and participate with the other officers.” 

“What happened to me being a stubborn, stupid American?” I chided with a grin. There was another pause, and I could tell he was working up to it, the words nauseating him. But CEO Kim was staring, so there was no way he couldn’t.

“I misspoke. I apologize.”

The SMTown retreat was all anyone was talking about once I made it back to Seoul. Tala nearly tackled me in the hallway outside my room.

"Did you hear?!" She exclaimed as I pushed my door open. 

"Hear what?" I pretended, dropping my keys on the bed. She quickly slipped off her shoes while I didn't bother. That was something I was never going to get used to. It was that way in Japan as well, and Kojima never passed up an opportunity to remind me how uncivilized I was. 

"The retreat!" she squealed and jumped on my bed before I could sit down. She was moving too fast for my stuffed self, so I gave up and opted for the desk chair. "We're all going on the retreat!" 

"So?" I asked, picking up the closest book to me and staring at the page. It was a Korean-English dictionary, somewhere in the 'S'. When I didn't feed into her excitement, Tala started to pout and crossed her arms with a huff. 

"You're going too." She said snobbishly. "Your name was on the list with rest of security." 

"Probably need someone to park the cars." I snickered, and then actually did grin at myself. 

"Oh come on!" She cried, throwing her hands in the air. "This what you wanted! You get to work with EXO!" She grabbed for the book, but I pulled it from her reach. It was unavoidable now, and she knew she had my attention. "What are you going to do about Chief Soo?" 

I would call it a moment of weakness when I told Tala nearly everything about myself, but you can't really call it a moment when you do it over and over again. She was truly my only companion in the whole country, and I overused the ear she offered. So I mumbled and grumbled, tossing the prop book aside. 

What  _ was  _ I going to do about Chief Soo? I was up by one, but knowing him, this retreat that was not his idea was going to be the perfect place for him to get back on top. 

"What even is this trip?" I asked, and Tala smirked, knowing she'd hooked me. She liked being my source of information. 

"It's a workshop for employees. Trainees work on debut, idols work on comebacks and security..." She wagged her eyebrows at me, "work on teamwork." 

"You're kidding me." I deadpanned, not interested in the slightest. 

"No! There's a competition every year to see who's the best!" Her face lit up suddenly, and she jumped off the bed and grabbed my arm. "You need to win it! Then Chief Soo can't touch you!" 

The taste of victory brought with it a little melancholy. If I won this competition, my war with Chief Soo would be all but over. He couldn't fire me if I had the backing of the company. Then again...how were the rest of the guards going to feel if I swooped in and destroyed them? 

Been there, done that. 

I shook Tala off my arm but nodded to her. "When do we leave?" 

 

The company hadn't given me a whole lot of notice. It was Tuesday and we were set to leave next Monday. I had less than a week to get back into the kind of shape that would win me the contest. And then there was the fact that I didn't know what kind of contest it was. If it was a kimchi eating contest, I was out of luck. And they didn't use firearms in this country, so I was up a creek there too. My hand to hand was decent, but I feel like the guards at LAX were more surprised than outmanned. Not to sell myself short or anything. This was the land of Taekwondo, after all. Is that racist? 

I turned the parking lot into a workout center by doing pull-ups on the doorframe of the shack, chair dips on the bumper of the vans and making the managers park in a relay that I could run when no one was looking. It felt good stretching my legs again, oddly satisfying even. The day after the rescue, I felt every single punch and kick in my bones; I was sore for days. But exercising now, I could get back to that dreaded six-minute mile Kojima had teased me about. 

The trainee dorms were buzzing come Monday. Boys and girls last minute packing, darting from room to room, borrowing clothes, making promises to bunk together. It felt like I was going off to summer camp with a gaggle of my closest strangers. Over the last month, and no doubt due to Tala's nagging, the rest of the kids had warmed up to me. To my surprise, only one of them had been lying about being able to speak English. The rest truly struggled with the language, and I won them over by helping them with their studies. 

 

SM was outdoing itself this year, or so I was told. In addition to the groups like NCT, EXO, SNSD, Red Velvet, and more, CEO Kim also wanted to take actors, models, MCs, and others from his sub-labels SM C&C and Mystic Entertainment. The company would be taking almost 900 employees to this resort on Jeju Island, and I was already feeling cramped as we staged to leave for the airport. The flight to the island was a whopping hour and fifteen minutes, and from there, they would cart us to the resort by bus, another thirty minutes. A small part of me hoped that Tala would just adopt me without asking, and I wouldn't have to awkwardly follow along behind the cliques of girls and glitter... but it didn't happen. She disappeared with some of the girls from a group called Red Velvet and I was left with my stupid ruck, standing by the bus, hoping someone would come save me. 

The resort was stunning. Halfway between the beach and nothing, uniquely modern houses sat clustered around long day pools. Each house had many rooms and their own porches that sported a hot tub for each. A volleyball court could be seen a hundred yards away from where the water lapped at the sand, bordered by coconut trees and palm branches. It was the epitome of island life. At the far end of the resort, a large recreational building had been prepped to house a thousand dancing teenagers. 

"Harper came!" Baekhyun grinned from ear to ear as EXO unloaded from their bus. 

"Since when are you calling girls by their first names?" Junmyeon chided from behind him. 

"Since she told me to! I'm gonna go say hi!" And before anyone could stop him, the leader of the beagle line was off and all smiles. Kyungsoo watched forlornly as Harper's face, which had been a mask of boredom, blossomed into relief when Baek romped up to her. Kyungsoo had to admit that his brother had that effect on people, but he thought it would be really great if Baek didn't use it on her. 

A month had gone by, and she was still here. All the bets that had been made in regard to her stay were past paid. No one put money on the fact that she would stay longer than a month, let alone a week as a glorified valet. Junmyeon, not in so many words, had told everyone else about the war Chief Soo declared on her, and Kyungsoo couldn't fathom the depths of her hardheadedness if the only reason she was staying was to win. So he did his best to ignore her and tried not to be associated with her. See, at SM there were no secrets. Everyone knew everything. But it was how each person used the information that differed. People knew she and Kyungsoo had history, but up until now, no one had decided to use that against him. It was just how the game was played here. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do but play. 

 

Baekhyun grabbed Harper's hand and pulled her over to EXO.

"Guys! Harper is going to eat lunch with us!" He declared, and Kyungsoo wondered how they communicated enough for him to even ask. She seemed to concentrate on the words that were being tossed around as the rest of the boys commented on one thing or another about the resort. It was a test really, to see how much she'd learned. After a moment, all eyes went to her and she visibly gulped. As smug as he wanted to be in that moment when her eyes met his, he felt like he should throw her a bone. 

"B-Beautiful." She stumbled over the pronunciation, but the outcome was clear: she passed. At least she knew what they were talking about. Suho seemed much more proud than he should of as he patted her on the shoulder and gestured towards the rec building. A sign of good faith that he wouldn't lead her straight into the ocean. 

 

"How long are you gonna act like this?" Kyungsoo turned to Jongin, who was looking at him intently. The other guys started towards the cafeteria with Harper safely at their center. 

"Act like what?" Kyungsoo said defensively, hanging back from the group. 

"Like she's the worst thing in the world." Jongin watched as the other members took turns saying something to Harper and giggling when she barely understood. 

"I'm not." Kyungsoo snapped and readjusted his bag on his shoulder, unhappily defensive. 

"You refuse to breathe the same air as her most of the time." Jongin pointed out and started behind the boys. Kyungsoo bit his lip, hating that his position on the matter was pitting him against his brothers. He hurried to Jongin's side and hissed into his ear, 

"She reckless." Hoping maybe he would sympathize. 

"And?" Jongin asked instead, and Kyungsoo sighed. He really was alone with the voice of reason. 

"She should have left when she had the chance." He grunted. But Jongin had the false sense of optimism that most maknae had. 

"You know...I kind of admire her courage." He commented, not leaving Kyungsoo for his objections. 

"It's not courage, it's stupidity." D.O. murmured, but Jongin grinned at him. 

"I don't know...standing up for what you believe in, keeping your word, staying reliable...those seem like pretty respectable traits, don't you think?" Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin's wrist and stopped him. With a little more space between them and those who could overhead, Kyungsoo asked, 

"What are you getting at?" Jongin wasn't usually one for confrontation, but from the outside, Kyungsoo knew he was being the aggressive one. 

"I'm just saying," He shrugged, letting Kyungsoo keep his hand, "she's not going anywhere. The least you could do is make peace." Kyungsoo let him go, and Jongin patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Besides hyung, Baekhyun likes her." And with that, he joined the group as they entered the rec center. 

Kyungsoo watched Baekhyun lead Harper through the line, pointing out what things were, talking like a motorboat in Korean, there was no way she could keep up. The cafeteria was as big as a basketball court, with round tables that could seat whole groups (maybe not NCT). Deep down, he knew Jongin was right, that he should suck it up and keep the peace. She'd saved their lives after all. He shouldn't forget that. But it wasn't enough to make him get up and go translate for them. Baek could make a fool of himself if he wanted. It wasn't too much for Harper to slap him upside the head as she had in LA. 

When Baek finally led her back to their table, Kyungsoo caught her shooting glances in his direction, like she was waiting for him to object to her sitting with them. If he was anything, he was competitive, and maybe that would be the best way they could survive this. So when she looked to him, he pulled the chair out for her to sit. 

Daring her to sit. 

Everyone else might have missed it, but a small smirk told him she saw his play, and she sat down. 

No one said anything for a moment. That's not true, Baekhyun never stopped talking, but they were all skilled at tuning him out. Harper kept her eyes locked on Kyungsoo's, playing chicken to see who would look away first. 

"Ooooh Harper, I know he's pretty but you really shouldn't stare!" Baekhyun cried, and she cracked a smile. 

Kyungsoo looked away, and she won. Both the staring contest and his compromise. They'd find a way to live with each other. It wasn't like they had much choice. The rest of the boys joined in the teasing, and pretty soon, it was comfortable. They ate their lunch and talked about the sessions they had planned for the afternoon. There was no time to stop and sightsee. It was straight to the grind day one. They could see the beach later.


End file.
